"There had been mornings when, awakening with rays of sunlight on her face, she had thought that she must hurry to Hammond's Market to get fresh eggs for breakfast; then, recapturing full consciousness, seeing the haze of New York beyond the window of her bedroom, she had felt a tearing stab, like a touch of death, the touch of rejecting reality."--Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand
How can the thought of fresh eggs for breakfast not be enough to kick one out of one's depression? Just kidding. I get it. The thing is, Atlas Shrugged kind of makes you hate lazy human beings (including yourself, if applicable). On the other hand, it's sort of inspiring, in a tough love kind of way. Not to mention that it's kind of a sizzler.
On a side note, at graduation today, I thought the head of the department said "feces" instead of "theses" (as in the plural of thesis) in his speech. Boy, was that a funny misunderstanding.