I can see in the acorn the oak tree. I see the growth, the rebuilding, the restoring. I see that is the american psyche. There is so much we can draw understanding from. One of the lessons is the development of courage. Because without courage, you can't practice any of the other virtues consistently.
It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave. It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind. The very holy mountains are keeping mum. We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it; we are lighting matches in vain under every green tree.
There is no stability in this world. who is to say what meaning there is in anything? who is to foretell the flight of a word? it is a balloon that sails over tree-tops. to speak of knowledge is futile. all is experiment and adventure. we are forever mixing ourselves with unknown quantities. what is to come? i know not. but, as i put down my glass i remember; i am engaged to be married. i am to dine with my friends tonight. i am bernard.
Look, gail." roark got up, reached out, tore a thick branch off a tree, held it in both hands, one fist closed at each end; then, his wrists and knuckles tensed against the resistance, he bent the branch slowly into an arc. "now i can make what i want of it: a bow, a spear, a cane, a railing. That's the meaning of life." "your strength?" "your work." he tossed the branch aside. "the material the earth offers you and what you make of it . . .