The thoughts of a stuttering fool are often the thoughts unheard. These thoughts would probably strip the title of fool from him since they have been made by someone who spends most of their time listening instead of talking.-SF
Background Illustrations provided by:


I don’t think I will ever be normal, and I don’t believe I was ever meant to be. I have always seen things differently and I still feel disconnected with the average human being. At times I want to separate myself and I often think, “What posses people to do the things they do? Why does this generation feel the need to share every detail of their life? Why is there a constant hunger to be seen? Is to let the world know that you are here, that you exist? Is it so strange to be silent? Is it so strange to keep your stories to yourself? Is it so strange to just observe with out having to be the focal point? When did it become shady to be private? When did it become weird to be uncomfortable with divulgence?”

In the summer days and in the heavy stillness of the evenings of the city, there were moments when a lonely man or woman- on a park bench, on a street corner, at an open window- would see in a newspaper a brief mention of the progress of the John Galt Line, and would look at the city with a sudden stab of hope. They were the very young, who felt that it was the kind of event they longed to see happening in the world-or the very old, who had seen a world in which such events did happen. They did not care about railroads, they knew nothing about business, they knew only that someone was fighting against great odds and winning. They did not admire the fighters purpose, they believed the voices of public opinion- and yet, when they read the Line was growing, they felt a moments sparkle and wondered why it made their own problems seem easier. -Atlas Shrugged.