Fear

Every now and then, I keep coming back to this wonderful passage from the fountainhead. This is where Mallory describes to Roark, the nature of horror that haunts him. Resonates deep…so I thought, I’d would make a note.

 

[Mallory to Roark] Listen, what’s the most horrible experience that you can imagine? To me – it’s being left, unarmed, in a sealed cell with a drooling beast of prey or a maniac who’s had some disease that’s eaten his brain out. You’d have nothing then but your voice – your voice and your thought. You’d scream to that creature why it should not touch you, you’d have the most eloquent words, the unanswerable words, you’d become the vessel of absolute truth. And you’d see living eyes watching you and you’d know that the thing can’t hear you, that it can’t be reached, not reached, not in any way, yet it’s breathing and moving there before you with a purpose of its own. That’s horror. Well, that’s what’s hanging over the world, prowling somewhere through mankind, that same thing, something closed, mindless, utterly wanton, but something with an aim and a cunning of its own. I don’t think I’m a coward, but I’m afraid of it. And that’s all I know – only that it exists. I don’t know its purpose, I don’t know its nature.

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