Kate

“I remember every word because they are the fabric of my life, the warp I am woven on. All my life since Aeneas’ death might seem a weaving torn out of the loom unfinished, a shapeless tangle of threads making nothing, but it is not so; for my mind returns as the shuttle returns always to the starting place, finding the pattern, going on with it. I was a spinner, not a weaver, but I have learned to weave.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, Lavinia

“The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“Me. And me now.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses