The Lathe of Heaven
I mean, the dream really did change reality. It made a different reality, retroactively, which she’d been part of all along.
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
you don’t speak of dreams as ‘unreal.’ They exist; they are events; they leave a mark behind them.
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
The only solid partitions left were inside the head.
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
this talking was a mere preliminary, a vestigial rite from the palmy days of analysis;
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
What will the creature made all of sea-drift do on the dry sand of daylight; what will the mind do, each morning, waking?
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
“But if you do find out, will you tell me how to stop?” Haber rocked back largely on his heels. “Why are you so afraid of yourself, George?”
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
Another evasion by Haber.
Dropping briefcase and file folders on the couch, he stretched his arms, and then went over, as he always did when he first entered his office, to the window. It was a large corner window, looking out east and north over a great sweep of world:
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
My how things have changed, eh? A window!
The infinite possibility, the unlimited and unqualified wholeness of being of the uncommitted, the nonacting, the uncarved: the being who, being nothing but himself, is everything.
Ursula K. Le Guin • The Lathe of Heaven
Makes inaction sound poetically heroic.
He never spoke with any bitterness at all, no matter how awful the things he said. Are there really people without resentment, without hate? she wondered. People who never go cross-grained to the universe? Who recognize evil, and resist evil, and yet are utterly unaffected by it?