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The Just City
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by Jo Walton (Goodreads Author)
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Ganbare!: Worksho...
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Mr. Fox
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by Helen Oyeyemi (Goodreads Author)
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Haruki Murakami
“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

Kameron Hurley
“Life was what you did with what was done to you.”
Kameron Hurley, God's War

Orson Scott Card
“You treated me the way you like to be treated when you grieve, and now I'm treating you the way I like to be treated. We prescribe our own medicine for each other.”
Orson Scott Card, Xenocide

Orson Scott Card
“Humans invent an imaginary lover and put that mask over the face of the body in their bed. That is the tragedy of language my friend. Those who know each other only through symbolic representations are forced to imagine each other. And because their imagination is imperfect, they are often wrong.”
Orson Scott Card, Xenocide

Virginia Woolf
“Clarissa had a theory in those days - they had heaps of theories, always theories, as young people have. It was to explain the feeling they had of dissatisfaction; not knowing people; not being known. For how could they know each other? You met every day; then not for six months, or years. It was unsatisfactory, they agreed, how little one knew people. But she said, sitting on the bus going up Shaftesbury Avenue, she felt herself everywhere; not 'here, here, here'; and she tapped the back of the seat; but everywhere. She waved her hand, going up Shaftesbury Avenue. She was all that. So that to know her, or any one, one must seek out the people who completed them; even the places. Odd affinities she had with people she had never spoke to, some women in the street, some man behind a counter - even trees, or barns. It ended in a transcendental theory which, with her horror of death, allowed her to believe, or say that she believed (for all her scepticism), that since our apparitions, the part of us which appears, are so momentary compared with the other, the unseen part of us, which spreads wide, the unseen might survive, be recovered somehow attached to this person or that, or even haunting certain places, after death. Perhaps - perhaps.”
Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

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