You will die. You will not live forever. Nor will any man nor any thing. Nothing is immortal. But only to us is it given to know that we must die. And that is a great gift: the gift of selfhood. For we have only what we know we must lose, what we are willing to lose…
URSULA K. LE GUINEvery group we belong to – by gender, sex, race, religion, age – is an in-group, surrounded by an immense out-group, living next door and all over the world, who will be alive as far into the future as humanity has a future. That out-group is called other people. It is for them that we write.
More Ursula K. Le Guin Quotes
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Hope is a slow business.
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The Earth is beautiful, and bright, and kindly, but that is not all. The Earth is also terrible, and dark, and cruel. The rabbit shrieks dying in the green meadows.
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I think hard times are coming. We will need writers who can remember freedom. Poets, visionaries, the realists of a larger reality.
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When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow.
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We will need writers who can remember freedom. Poets, visionaries-the realists of a larger reality.
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Take the tale in your teeth, then, and bite till the blood runs, hoping it’s not poison.
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Nothing remains the same from one moment to the next, you can’t step into the same river twice.
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But it is one thing to read about dragons and another to meet them.
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I never knew anybody . . . who found life simple. I think a life or a time looks simple when you leave out the details.
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You have made it into a thing, to which the only possible relationship is a power relationship. And thus you have fatally impoverished your own reality.
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We will not know our own injustice if we cannot imagine justice. We will not be free if we do not imagine freedom.
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Music is another way of thinking, or maybe thinking is another kind of music.
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To the lives that haven’t been lived yet. That will be my gift back to the world that gave me the life I did live, the love I loved, the breath I breathed.
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The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end? All we have is means.
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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






