Alex

“You have read some books,
I am sure

Many of which, like a rainbow,
hide their pot of gold, around the end

But my good colors,
uncontrollably spill everywhere:

‘Waking up,
is dreaming,

for those
who love beginning now”
― S.B. Joon, Not Knot Naught

“If one believes that words are acts, as I do, then one must hold writers responsible for what their words do.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places

“If it is a human thing to do to put something you want, because it's useful, edible, or beautiful, into a bag, or a basket, or a bit of rolled bark or leaf, or a net woven of your own hair, or what have you, and then take it home with you, home being another, larger kind of pouch or bag, a container for people, and then later on you take it out and eat it or share it or store it up for winter in a solider container or put it in the medicine bundle or the shrine or the museum, the holy place, the area that contains what is sacred, and then the next day you probably do much the same again—if to do that is human, if that's what it takes, then I am a human being after all. Fully, freely, gladly, for the first time....

[T]he proper, fitting shape of the novel might be that of a sack, a bag. A book holds words. Words hold things. They bear meanings. A novel is a medicine bundle, holding things in a particular, powerful relation to one another and to us."

—"The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places

“As the wind, when asked: ‘Who are you?’,
answers: ‘I am the moving limbs of a tree’,

and a tree, under the same question,
moving its limbs, says: ‘I am the wind’,

so, people think they are love,
and love, thinks it is people”
― S.B. Joon, Not Knot Naught