In my defense...

 ...I have only ever read “The Romantic Manifesto” out of all of Ayn Rand’s books. And you know why I’m posting this? There’s a twitter thread about books that turn people off—that many of those “twitterers” would want to avoid another person if said person consider “Atlas Shrugged” or “The Fountainhead” as among their favourite books. I must admit that I have both paperbacks in my collection after  taking them from a pile of “help yourself “ books that a library (a private one) was trying to get rid of. Come on, free books! Books. For free. Come on. Well, you know what—I shouldn’t try to explain myself. We should expose ourselves to varied perspectives. Of course, there is the danger of being some sort of “Frankenstein’s monster” of ideas who doesn’t have a clear set of principles and only uses all these imbibed ideas to brag or hide one’s deep insecurities. Like a well-practised speech technique with minimum “ums” and sing-songy expressions and memorized responses for unexpected questions —an external cortex of chocolatey goodness surrounding a gaseous mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and other dissolved gases. You know what I mean.