"'... My real soul, Peter? It's real only when it's independent--you've discovered that, haven't you? It's real only when it chooses curtains and desserts--you're right about that--curtains, desserts and religions, Peter, and the shapes of buildings. But you've never wanted that. You wanted a mirror. People want nothing but mirrors around them. To reflect them while they're reflecting too. You know, like the senseless infinity you get from two mirrors facing each other across a narrow passage. Usually in the more vulgar kind of hotels. Reflections of reflections and echoes of echoes. No beginning and no end. No center and no purpose. I gave you what you want. I became what you are, what your friends are, what most of humanity is so busy being--only without the trimmings. I didn't go around sprouting book reviews to hide my emptiness of judgment--I said I had no judgement. I didn't borrow designs to hide my creative impotence--I created nothing. I didn't say that equality is a noble conception and unity the chief goal of mankind--I just agreed with everybody. You call it death, Peter? That kind of death--I've imposed it on you an on everyone around us. But you--they enjoy your presence. You've spared them the blank death. Because you've imposed it--on yourself.'"

The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand