Day 0384

Another full day of painting, with time for a walk after the snow had stopped. Tired enough to quieten my mind, which gave me singularity of purpose for once. Moved on with the Fountainhead, and greatly enjoying it. Reflecting on it much more than I thought I would allow myself. There are subtleties that I am engrossed in today, though the melodrama, the caprice, self-mortification, the overwrought artifice of the architecture motif, the insistently pendulous, hanging hands and the cinematic atmosphere wear pretty thin.

The unrecognized genius—that's an old story. Have you ever thought of a much worse one—the genius recognized too well? That a great many men are poor fools who can't see the best—that's nothing. One can't get angry at that. But do you understand about the men who see it and don't want it?
Ayn Rand - The Fountainhead