They were without shame and without desire, like the angels. But it is not human to be without shame and without desire.
They were my age, but we’d reached our age by different roads. What
They way one does research into nonexistent history is to tell the story and find out what happened. I believe this isn't very different from what historians of the so-called real world do. Even if we...
They tended to be stolid, slovenly, heavy, and to my eyes effeminate - not in the sense of delicacy, etc., but in just the opposite sense: a gross, bland fleshiness, a bovinity without point or edge.
They say there is nothing new under any sun. But if each life is not new, each single life, then why are we born?
They preserved autonomy of conscience even at the cost of becoming eccentric.
They argued because they liked argument, liked the swift run of the unfettered mind along the paths of possibility, liked to question what was not questioned. They were intelligent, their minds were a...
There’s a point, around age twenty, Bedap said, when you have to choose whether to be like everybody else the rest of your life, or to make a virtue of your peculiarities.
There's nothing wrong with me...except acute chronic fear.
There were several completely mysterious electrical devices connected with the washstand, and the water valve did not cut off when you released the faucet but kept pouring out until shut off—a sign, S...
There were people who swore as an art form—performing a dazzling juncture of the inordinate and the unexpected.
There is solid evidence for the fact that when women speak more than 30 percent of the time, men perceive them as dominating the conversation; well, similarly, if, say, two women in a row get one of t...
There is nothing, the Ice says, but Ice. – But the young volcano there to northward has another word it thinks of saying.
There are two kinds of knowledge, local and universal. There are two kinds of time,local and historical.
There are a limited number of plots (some say seven, some say twelve, some say thirty). There is no limit to the number of stories.
Then I saw . . . you see . . . I saw that you can't do anything for anybody. We can't save each other. Or ourselves.
Then Ged pitied her. She was like a white deer caged, like a white bird wing-clipped, like a silver ring in an old man's finger.
The way to see how beautiful the earth is, is to see it as the moon. The way to see how beautiful the life is, is from the vantage point of death.
The way that can be gone is not the eternal Way.. . . His
The unknown, said Faxe’s soft voice in the forest, the unforetold, the unproven, that is what life is based on. Ignorance is the ground of thought. Unproof is the ground of action.