Ursula monkton Quotes

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He knows not where he's going,For the ocean will decide,Its not the destination,It's the glory of the ride

Edward Monkton
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In that still and settled placeThere's nobody but youYou're where I breathe my oxygenYou're where I see my viewAnd when the world feels full of noiseMy heart knows what to doIt finds that still and settled placeAnd dances there with you

Edward Monkton
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She really was pretty, for a grown-up, but when you are seven, beauty is an abstraction, not an imperative.

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane
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Excerpt from Ursula K Le Guin's speech at National Book AwardsHard times are coming, when we’ll be wanting the voices of writers who can see alternatives to how we live now, can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies to other ways of being, and even imagine real grounds for hope. We’ll need writers who can remember freedom – poets, visionaries – realists of a larger reality.Right now, we need writers who know the difference between production of a market commodity and the practice of an art. Developing written material to suit sales strategies in order to maximise corporate profit and advertising revenue is not the same thing as responsible book publishing or authorship.Yet I see sales departments given control over editorial. I see my own publishers, in a silly panic of ignorance and greed, charging public libraries for an e-book six or seven times more than they charge customers. We just saw a profiteer try to punish a publisher for disobedience, and writers threatened by corporate fatwa. And I see a lot of us, the producers, who write the books and make the books, accepting this – letting commodity profiteers sell us like deodorant, and tell us what to publish, what to write.Books aren’t just commodities; the profit motive is often in conflict with the aims of art. We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable – but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.I’ve had a long career as a writer, and a good one, in good company. Here at the end of it, I don’t want to watch American literature get sold down the river. We who live by writing and publishing want and should demand our fair share of the proceeds; but the name of our beautiful reward isn’t profit. Its name is freedom.

Ursula K. Le Guin
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Ursula, we have to talk…' he said, almost blurting. He couldn’t believe he was in the “we have to talk” position. It was so unnerving. 'I have to ask you… Let’s be each other’s emergency contact numbers.' This was his first concession towards commitment.

Sharon Weil, Donny and Ursula Save the World
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A man who doesn’t detest a bad government is a fool. And if there were such a thing as a good government in earth, it would be a great joy to serve it.

Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness
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The old queen had failed them so miserably... She was such a bitter disappointment. But Ursula was different. There was no one to distract her, no one for her to love. She was alone in the world, alone in her grief, and alone with her pain. No, she wouldn't disappoint them. Unlike the old queen, Ursula would be able to fill her heart with hate.

Serena Valentino, Poor Unfortunate Soul: A Tale of the Sea Witch
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All that grieved me - that I was half one thing and half another and nothing wholly - was the sorrow of my childhood, but the strength and use of my life after I grew up.

Ursula K. Le Guin
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The clock had been Sylvie's, and her mother's before that. It had gone to Ursula on Sylvie's death and Ursula had left it to Teddy, and so it had zigzagged its way down the family tree......The clock was a good one, made by Frodsham and worth quite a bit, but Teddy knew if he gave it to Viola she would sell it or misplace it or break it and it seemed important to him that it stayed in the family. An heirloom. ('Lovely word,' Bertie said.) He liked to think that the little golden key that wound it, a key that would almost certainly be lost by Viola, would continue to be turned by the hand of someone who was part of the family, part of his blood. The red thread.

Kate Atkinson, A God in Ruins
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Keenness is dangerous but also rebirth of thought and mind. Complacency is the death of ideals. Always stay keen.

Ursula Tillmann, Plato in the Mountains: It's All Greed to Me
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