Атлант расправил плечи
The Utopia of Greed
Shewaspasttherealmofthought—asshelayinbedinthedarknessofherroom,unabletothinkortosleep—andthemoaningviolencethatfilledhermindseemedonlyasensationofhermuscles,butitstoneanditstwistingshadeswerelikeapleadingcry,whichsheknew,notaswords,butaspain:Lethimcomehere,lethimbreak—letitbedamned,allofit,myrailroadandhisstrikeandeverythingwe’velivedby!—letitbedamned,everythingwe’vebeenandare!—hewould,iftomorrowIweretodie—thenletmedie,buttomorrow—lethimcomehere,beitanypricehenames,Ihavenothingleftthat’snotforsaletohimanylonger—isthiswhatitmeanstobeananimal?—itdoesandIam...Shelayonherback,herpalmspressedtothesheetathersides,tostopherselffromrisingandwalkingintohisroom,knowingthatshewascapableevenofthat...
It’snotI,it’sabodyIcanneitherendurenorcontrol...Butsomewherewithinher,notaswords,butasaradiantpointofstillness,therewasthepresenceofthejudgewhoseemedtoobserveher,notinsterncondemnationanylonger,butinapprovalandamusement,asifsaying:Yourbody?—ifhewerenotwhatyouknowhimtobe,wouldyourbodybringyoutothis?—whyisithisbodythatyouwant,andnoother?—doyouthinkthatyouaredamningthem,thethingsyoubothhavelivedby?—areyoudamningthatwhichyouarehonoringinthisverymoment,byyourverydesire?...Shedidnothavetohearthewords,sheknewthem,shehadalwaysknownthem.
