Excerpts from The Foundtainhead, Ayn Rand

His face was like a law of nature – a thing one could not question, alter, or implore. It had high cheekbones over gaunt, hollow cheeks, grey eyes, cold and steady; a contemptuous mouth, shut tight, the mouth of an executioner or a saint.

His body leaned back against the sky. It was a body of long straight lines and angles, each curve broken into planes. He stood rigid, his hands hanging at his side, palms out.

He walked swiftly, with a loose, lazy expertness of motion.

People turned to look at Howard Roark as he passed. Some remained staring after him with sudden resentment. They could give no reason for it; it was an instinct his presence awakened in most people. Howard Roark saw no one. For him, the streets were empty. He could have walked there naked without concern.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He stood looking at her. She knew that he did not see her. No, she thought, it was not that exactly. He always looked straight at people and his damnable eyes never missed a thing, it was only that he made people feel as if they did not exist.

For once, she expected some emotion from him; and an emotion would be equivalent of seeing him broken. She did not know what it was about him that had always made her want to see him broken.

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About Manali Shah

Postmodern. Spiritual. Feminist.

Posted on January 15, 2009, in Excerpts and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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