Thoughts while reading Atlas Shrugged.

It seems to me that there are very few people who are driven by their own passions. That in wonder, look around them at an awesome world and derive inspiration to make it better. The rest are satisfied to float or repine the efforts of others without working toward anything real or of value. Satiated by a place to sleep and a full belly. Discontented by those who dream with purpose and make these things manifest.
For the few who strive, money is not motivation, but for the larger herd, it is the only thing that moves them. Without passion, they are slaves to a class that is differentiated more for thinking than for wealth and power, by following the carrot into an imperfect system. Decisiveness and drive. But there we are.