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He knew once more, at last, after this long, bitter, wasted time, who he was and where he was. But where he must go in the years to come, that he could not see; and he feared to see it.

But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.

I think they drove your priestess Kossil mad a long time ago; I think she has prowled these caverns as she prowls the labyrinth of her own self, and now she cannot see the daylight any more.

You will die. You will not live forever. Nor will any man nor any thing. Nothing is immortal. But only to us is it given to know that we must die. And that is a great gift: the gift of selfhood. For we have only what we know we must lose, what we are willing to lose.

There's a point, around the age of twenty, when you have to choose whether to be like everybody else the rest of your life, or to make a virtue of your peculiarities.

We all have forests on our minds. Forests unexplored, unending. Each one of us gets lost in the forest, every night, alone.

You will die. You will not live forever. Nor will any man nor any thing. Nothing is immortal. But only to us is it given to know that we must die. And that is a great gift: the gift of selfhood. For we have only what we know we must lose, what we are willing to lose.

Yet a greater, unlearned skill he possessed, which was the art of kindness.

But we're all walking in the night, now, on ground we don't know. When the day comes we may know where we are, or we may not.

Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it.

Anarchism’s principal target is the authoritarian State (capitalist or socialist); its principal moral-practical theme is cooperation (solidarity, mutual aid).

Sun shrunk to moon. Cold comes soon.

A hero whose heroism consists of killing people is uninteresting to me, and I detest the hormonal war orgies of our visual media, the mechanical slaughter of endless battalions of black-clad, yellow-toothed, red-eyed demons.

I use your love as a man burns a candle, burns it away, to light his steps.

In this effort to attain security, independence and privacy of course were suspect...

he had spent his life learning how to choose to do what he had no choice but to do.

You must be Arha, or you must be Tenar. You cannot be both.

There is no kingdom like the forests.

She looked where he was looking, into the dim gulf of air above the western sea. “If she comes, she'll come from there,” he said. “And if she doesn't come, she is there.” She nodded. “I know.” Her eyes were filled with tears.

In the latter months of his own long sickness the Master Herbal had taught him much of the healer's lore, and the first lesson and the last of all that lore was this: Heal the wound and cure the illness, but let the dying spirit go.