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He’s just an egomaniac devoid of all moral sense
– said the society woman dressing for a charity bazaar, who did not contemplate what means of self expression would be left to her, and how she would impose her ostentation on her friends, if charity or were not the all excusing virtue
- said the social worker, who had found no aim in life, and could generate no aim in him from within the stability of his soul, but basked in virtue, and held an unearned respect from all, by the grace of his fingers on the wounds of others
- said the novelist, who had nothing to say if the subject of service and sacrifice would be taken away from him who saved in the hearing of attentive thousand that he loved them and love them, and what they please love him a little in return
– said the lady columnist to her, just by the country manor, because she wrote so tenderly about the little people
– said all the little people who wanted to hear of love, the great love, the office, tedious, love, love that embraced everything, for gave everything and permitted them everything
- said every second hander, or who cannot exist, except as a leech on the soul of others. Ellsworth Toohey sat back, watched, listened and smiled.
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