All knowledge is partial, infinitesimally partial. Reason is a net thrown out into an ocean. What truth it brings in is a fragment, a glimpse, a scintillation of the whole truth.

I'll make my report as if I told a story, for I was taught as a child on my homeworld that Truth is a matter of the imagination.

It's a rare gift, to know where you need to be, before you've been to all the places you don't need to be.

No matter how successful, beloved, influential her work was, when a woman author dies, nine times out of ten, she gets dropped from the lists, the courses, the anthologies, while the men get kept. ... If she had the nerve to have children, her chances of getting dropped are higher still. ... So if you want your writing to be taken seriously, don't marry and have kids, and above all, don't die. But if you have to die, commit suicide. They approve of that.

What is an anarchist? One who, choosing, accepts the responsibility of choice.

If you want to know all about the sea ... and ask the sea itself, what does it say? Grumble grumble swish swish. It is too busy being itself to know anything about itself.

Maybe when you meet the people you are supposed to meet you know it, without knowing it.