“Peace of mind is not a simple matter of pursuing one’s own pleasure; rather, it is inextricably linked to the attitudes of other human beings, to what they want, to what they expect.”
― Going After Cacciato
― Going After Cacciato
“Don't believe that the book is losing sight of you, Reader. The you that was shifted to the Other Reader can, at any sentence, be addressed to you again. You are always a possible you. Who would dare to sentence you to the loss of the you, a catastrophe as terrible as the loss of the I. For a second-person discourse to become a novel, at least two you's are required, distinct and concomitant, which stand out from the crowd of he's, she's and they's.”
― If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler
― If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler
“We are projects of collective self-creation. What if we approached human history that way? What if we treat people, from the beginning, as imaginative, intelligent, playful creatures who deserve to be understood as such? What if, instead of telling a story about how our species fell from some idyllic state of equality, we ask how we came to be trapped in such tight conceptual shackles that we can no longer even imagine the possibility of reinventing ourselves?”
― The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity
― The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity
“His eyes did not see outward any more,
the gold gone dull behind the crystal spheres.
He lifted up his head and cried out twice,
loudly, to whom? and stretched himself, and died,
the small soul going forth with terrible grandeur.
Asked, “Hardy! what do cats say?” he’d reply.
obligingly, “Meow.” That was his sop
to human vanity. The rest of pride
was his: his territory: sprayed, and held
by battle. He was white and orange, fat,
insolent and innocent and greedy,
a clumsy hunter and a potent sire.
He sent his life forth as the crippled tree
puts forth white flowers in April every year
upon the dying branch. He knew the way.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin's Book of Cats
the gold gone dull behind the crystal spheres.
He lifted up his head and cried out twice,
loudly, to whom? and stretched himself, and died,
the small soul going forth with terrible grandeur.
Asked, “Hardy! what do cats say?” he’d reply.
obligingly, “Meow.” That was his sop
to human vanity. The rest of pride
was his: his territory: sprayed, and held
by battle. He was white and orange, fat,
insolent and innocent and greedy,
a clumsy hunter and a potent sire.
He sent his life forth as the crippled tree
puts forth white flowers in April every year
upon the dying branch. He knew the way.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin's Book of Cats
“I told him, “I’m your father—for now, at least. When someone’s father dies, he must have a new one, if he’s as young as you are. I’m the man.” He nodded, lost in thought; and quite suddenly I recalled how I had dreamed, only two nights before, of a world in which all the people knew themselves bound by ties of blood, being all descended from the same pair of colonists. I, who did not know my own mother’s name, or my father’s, might very well be related to this child whose name was my own, or for that matter to anyone I met. The world of which I had dreamed had been, for me, the bed on which I had lain. I wish I could describe how serious we were there by the laughing stream, how solemn and clean he looked with his wet face and the droplets sparkling in the lashes of his wide eyes.”
― The Sword Of The Lictor
― The Sword Of The Lictor
The Black Tower
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— last activity Jan 16, 2016 04:12PM
Wheel of Time complaints. thoughts. discussions. this could be fun.
The Malazan Fallen
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— last activity Dec 01, 2024 05:29PM
For those of us who have fallen for the Malazan series and need a place to read or re-read, discuss and dream. We did a massive reading of the Book o ...more
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