Introduction
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Blogging
Wynand and Dominique
(Page 425)
"When there's no news, make it," was Wynand's order
(Page 442)
"You're beginning to see, aren't you, Peter? Shall I make it clearer You never wanted me to be real. You wanted an act to help your act-a beautiful, complicated act, all twists, trimmings, and words. All words. You didn't like what I said about Vincent Knowlton. You liked it when I said the same thing under cover of virtuous sentiments. You didn't want me to believe. You only wanted me to convince you that I believed. My real soul, Peter? It's real only when it's independent-you've discovered that, haven't you? It's real only when it chooses curtains and desserts-you're right about that-curtains, desserts, and religions, Peter, and the shapes of buildings. But you've never wanted that. You wanted a mirror. People want nothing but mirrors around them. To reflect them while they're reflecting too. You know, like the senseless infinity you get from two mirrors facing each other across a narrow passage. Usually in the more vulgar of hotels. Reflections of reflections and echoes of echoes. No beginning and no end. No center and no purpose. I gave you what you wanted. I became what you are, what you friends are, what most of humanity is so busy being-only without the trimmings. I didn't go around spouting book reviews to hide my emptiness of judgment-I said I had no judgment. I didn't borrow designs to hide my creative impotence-I created nothing. I didn't say that equality is a noble conception and unity the chief goal of mankind-I just agreed with everybody. You call it death, Peter? That kind of death-I've imposed it on you and everyone around us. But you-you haven't done that. People are comfortable with you, they like you, they enjoy your presence. You've spared them the blank death Because you've imposed it-on yourself."