Balder Ex-Libris - Rand AynReview of books rare and missing2024-03-16T01:56:42+00:00urn:md5:aa728a70505b2fae05796923271581c2DotclearRand Ayn - The virtue of selfishnessurn:md5:f53e533f61fc869ef7dbcb0df802fc452015-12-27T07:07:00+00:002015-12-27T07:07:00+00:00balderRand AynJewRomanUnited States <p><img src="https://balderexlibris.com/public/img3/Rand_Ayn_-_The_virtue_of_selfishness.jpg" alt="" /><br />
Author : <strong>Rand Ayn</strong><br />
Title : <strong>The virtue of selfishness A new concept of egoism</strong><br />
Year : 1961<br />
<br />
Link download : <a href="https://balderexlibris.com/public/ebook2/Rand_Ayn_-_The_virtue_of_selfishness.zip">Rand_Ayn_-_The_virtue_of_selfishness.zip</a><br />
<br />
“Ethics is not a mystic fantasy—nor a social convention—nor a dispensable, subjective luxury. ... Ethics is an objective necessity of man’s survival—not by the grace of the supernatural nor of your neighbors nor of your whims, but by the grace of reality and the nature of life.” “The Objectivist ethics proudly advocates and upholds rational selfishness—which means: the values required for man’s survival qua man— which means: the values required for human survival—not the values produced by the desires, the feelings, the whims or the needs of irrational brutes, who have never outgrown the primordial practice of human sacrifices.” Ever since their first publication, Ayn Rand’s works have had a major impact on the intellectual scene. Her new morality—the ethics of rational self-interest—challenges the altruist-collectivist fashions of our day. Known as Objectivism, her unique philosophy is the underlying theme of her famous novels. <strong>...</strong></p>Rand Ayn - The fountainheadurn:md5:b36a7528cd67db6a04ca736da4651e4c2015-12-27T07:01:00+00:002015-12-27T07:02:59+00:00balderRand AynNovelRoman <p><img src="https://balderexlibris.com/public/img3/Rand_Ayn_-_The_fountainhead.jpg" alt="" /><br />
Author : <strong>Rand Ayn</strong><br />
Title : <strong>The fountainhead</strong><br />
Year : 1943<br />
<br />
Link download : <a href="https://balderexlibris.com/public/ebook2/Rand_Ayn_-_The_fountainhead.zip">Rand_Ayn_-_The_fountainhead.zip</a><br />
<br />
Introduction to the Twenty-fifth Anniversary Edition. Many people have asked me how I feel about the fact that The Fountainhead has been in print for twenty-five years. I cannot say that I feel anything in particular, except a kind of quiet satisfaction. In this respect, my attitude toward my writing is best expressed by a statement of Victor Hugo: "If a writer wrote merely for his time, I would have to break my pen and throw it away." Certain writers, of whom I am one, do not live, think or write on the range of the moment. Novels, in the proper sense of the word, are not written to vanish in a month or a year. That most of them do, today, that they are written and published as if they were magazines, to fade as rapidly, is one of the sorriest aspects of today's literature, and one of the clearest indictments of its dominant esthetic philosophy: concrete-bound, journalistic Naturalism which has now reached its dead end in the inarticulate sounds of panic. Longevity-predominantly, though not exclusively-is the prerogative of a literary school which is virtually non-existent today: Romanticism. This is not the place for a dissertation on the nature of Romantic fiction, so let me state - for the record and for the benefit of those college students who have never been allowed to discover it - only that Romanticism is the conceptual school of art. It deals, not with the random trivia of the day, but with the timeless, fundamental, universal problems and values of human existence. It does not record or photograph; it creates and projects. It is concerned - n the words of Aristotle - not with things as they are, but with things as they might be and ought to be. And for the benefit of those who consider relevance to one's own time as of crucial importance, I will add, in regard to our age, that never has there been a time when men have so desperately needed a projection of things as they ought to be. <strong>...</strong></p>Rand Ayn - Atlas shruggedurn:md5:b3cd5331f161bde19b87ea98844c92d32015-12-27T06:58:00+00:002015-12-27T06:59:31+00:00balderRand AynNovelRoman <p><img src="https://balderexlibris.com/public/img3/Rand_Ayn_-_Atlas_shrugged.jpg" alt="" /><br />
Author : <strong>Rand Ayn</strong><br />
Title : <strong>Atlas shrugged</strong><br />
Year : 1957<br />
<br />
Link download : <a href="https://balderexlibris.com/public/ebook2/Rand_Ayn_-_Atlas_shrugged.zip">Rand_Ayn_-_Atlas_shrugged.zip</a><br />
<br />
"Who is John Galt?" The light was ebbing, and Eddie Willers could not distinguish the bum's face. The bum had said it simply, without expression. But from the sunset far at the end of the street, yellow glints caught his eyes, and the eyes looked straight at Eddie Willers, mocking and still—as if the question had been addressed to the causeless uneasiness within him. "Why did you say that?" asked Eddie Willers, his voice tense. The bum leaned against the side of the doorway; a wedge of broken glass behind him reflected the metal yellow of the sky. "Why does it bother you?" he asked. "It doesn't," snapped Eddie Willers. He reached hastily into his pocket. The bum had stopped him and asked for a dime, then had gone on talking, as if to kill that moment and postpone the problem of the next. Pleas for dimes were so frequent in the streets these days that it was not necessary to listen to explanations, and he had no desire to hear the details of this bum's particular despair. "Go get your cup of coffee," he said, handing the dime to the shadow that had no face. "Thank you, sir," said the voice, without interest, and the face leaned forward for a moment. The face was wind-browned, cut by lines of weariness and cynical resignation; the eyes were intelligent. Eddie Willers walked on, wondering why he always felt it at this time of day, this sense of dread without reason. No, he thought, not dread, there's nothing to fear: just an immense, diffused apprehension, with no source or object. He had become accustomed to the feeling, but he could find no explanation for it; yet the bum had spoken as if he knew that Eddie felt it, as if he thought that one should feel it, and more: as if he knew the reason. Eddie Willers pulled his shoulders straight, in conscientious self-discipline. He had to stop this, he thought; he was beginning to imagine things. Had he always felt it? He was thirty-two years old. He tried to think back. No, he hadn't; but he could not remember when it had started. The feeling came to him Suddenly, at random intervals, and now it was coming more often than ever. It's the twilight, he thought; I hate the twilight. <strong>...</strong></p>Rand Ayn - Anthemurn:md5:d133cdcaed626bfdf55739d10a830fd32015-12-27T06:50:00+00:002015-12-27T06:55:28+00:00balderRand AynJewNorth AmericaNovelUnited States <p><img src="https://balderexlibris.com/public/img3/Rand_Ayn_-_Anthem.jpg" alt="" /><br />
Author : <strong>Rand Ayn</strong><br />
Title : <strong>Anthem</strong><br />
Year : 1946<br />
<br />
Link download : <a href="https://balderexlibris.com/public/ebook2/Rand_Ayn_-_Anthem.zip">Rand_Ayn_-_Anthem.zip</a><br />
<br />
Chapter One. It is a sin to write this. It is a sin to think words no others think and to put them down upon a paper no others are to see. It is base and evil. It is as if we were speaking alone to no ears but our own. And we know well that there is no transgression blacker than to do or think alone. We have broken the laws. The laws say that men may not write unless the Council of Vocations bid them so. May we be forgiven! But this is not the only sin upon us. We have committed a greater crime, and for this crime there is no name. What punishment awaits us if it be discovered we know not, for no such crime has come in the memory of men and there are no laws to provide for it. <strong>...</strong></p>