She's a writer. The kind of writer who wouldn't be published outside. She believes that when one deals with words, one deals with the mind.
Ayn RandI love you, Dominique. As selfishly as the fact that I exist. As selfishly as my lungs breathe air. I breathe for my own necessity, for the fuel of my body, for my survival. I've given you, not my sacrifice or my pity, but my ego and my naked need. This is the only way I can want you to love me.
Ayn Rand