“ Cinders patter, falling with the snow. We creep infinitesimally northward through the dirty chaos of a world in the process of making itself. Praise then Creation unfinished! Ursula K. Le Guin
“ I think hard times are coming. We will need writers who can remember freedom. Poets, visionaries, the realists of a larger reality. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ On the blank leaf glued to the inner back cover I drew the double curve within the circle, and blacked the yin half of the symbol, then pushed it back to my companion. 'Do you know that sign?' He look… Ursula K. Le Guin
“ His gentleness was uncompromising; because he would not compete for dominance, he was indomitable. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ But it doesn't take a thousand men to open a door, my lord.It might to keep it open. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ A forest ecology is a delicate one. If the forest perishes, its fauna may go with it. The Athshean word for world is also the word for forest. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ The fish in the creek said nothing. Fish never do. Few people know what fish think about injustice, or anything else. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ He began to see the truth, that Ged had neither lost nor won but, naming the shadow of his death with his own name, had made himself whole: a man: who, knowing his whole true self, cannot be used or p… Ursula K. Le Guin
“ I know who I was, I can tell you who I may have been, but I am, now, only in this line of words I write. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ Science Fiction properly conceived, like all serious fiction, however funny, is a way of trying to describe what is going on, what people actually do and feel, how people relate to everything else in… Ursula K. Le Guin
“ All that grieved me - that I was half one thing and half another and nothing wholly - was the sorrow of my childhood, but the strength and use of my life after I grew up. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ His eyes saved him. What they insisted on seeing and reporting to him took him out of the autism of terror. Ursula K. Le Guin
“ The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story. Ursula K. Le Guin
