“Excess is excrement, ... Excrement retained in the body is a poison.”
In this quote, Ursula K. Le Guin uses a vivid comparison between excess and excrement to convey the idea that holding onto unnecessary things can be harmful. By equating excess to excrement, she emphasizes the toxic nature of retaining things that are no longer needed. Just as the body must eliminate waste to maintain health, Le Guin suggests that we must let go of excess in order to maintain balance and well-being in our lives.
The quote by Ursula K. Le Guin emphasizes the toxicity of holding on to excess in our lives. Just as retaining bodily waste can harm our physical health, holding onto unnecessary possessions, emotions, or habits can poison our mental and emotional well-being. In today's fast-paced world filled with distractions and excess, it serves as a reminder to prioritize what truly matters and let go of what is weighing us down.
Ursula K. Le Guin's quote emphasizes moderation and balance in life. It serves as a reminder that too much of anything can be harmful, just like how retaining toxins in the body can be poisonous.
In this quote by Ursula K. Le Guin, she compares excess to excrement and states that holding onto excess can be harmful like retaining poison in the body. This thought-provoking statement invites us to reflect on the consequences of excess in our lives. Consider the following questions:
In what areas of your life do you tend to accumulate excess? How does this excess impact your physical, emotional, or mental well-being?
How can you identify and eliminate excess from your life to prevent it from becoming toxic or harmful?
Reflect on a time when you felt burdened by excess, whether it be possessions, commitments, or emotions. How did you address this excess, and what were the results?
What steps can you take to practice moderation and prevent the accumulation of excess in the future?
“The word he used was not “wallowing,” there being no animals on Anarres to make wallows; it was a compound, meaning literally “coating continually and thickly with excrement.” The flexibility and precision of Pravic lent itself to the creation of vivid metaphors quite unforeseen by its inventors.”
“The body is an arrangement in spacetime, a patterning, a process; the mind is a process of the body, an organ, doing what organs do: organize. Order, pattern, connect. . . . an immensely flexible technology, or life strategy, which if used with skill and resourcefulness presents each of us with that most fascinating of all serials, The Story of My Life.”
“Karhiders discuss sexual matters freely, and talk about kemmer with both reverence and gusto, but they are reticent about discussing perversion - at least they were with me. Excessive prolongation of the kemmer period, with permanent hormonal imbalance toward the male or the female, causes what they call perversion; it is not rare; three or four percent of adults may be physiological perverts or abnormals - normals, by our standard. They are not excluded from society, but they are tolerated with some disdain, as homosexuals are in many bisexual societies, the Karhidish slang for them is halfdeads. They are sterile.”
“I have told the story I was asked to tell. I have closed it, as so many stories close, with a joining of two people. What is one man's and one woman's love and desire, against the history of two worlds, the great revolutions of our lifetimes, the hope, the unending cruelty of our species? A little thing. But a key is a little thing, next to the door it opens. If you lose the key, the door may never be unlocked. It is in our bodies that we lose or begin our freedom, in our bodies that we accept or end our slavery. So I wrote this book for my friend, with whom I have lived and will die free.”
“Literature is the extant body of written art. All novels belong to it.The value judgement concealed in distinguishing one novel as literature and another as genre vanishes with the distinction.Every readable novel can give true pleasure. Every novel read by choice is read because it gives true pleasure.Literature consists of many genres, including mystery, science fiction, fantasy, naturalism, realism, magical realism, graphic, erotic, experimental, psychological, social, political, historical, bildungsroman, romance, western, army life, young adult, thriller, etc., etc…. and the proliferating cross-species and subgenres such as erotic Regency, noir police procedural, or historical thriller with zombies.Some of these categories are descriptive, some are maintained largely as marketing devices. Some are old, some new, some ephemeral.Genres exist, forms and types and kinds of fiction exist and need to be understood: but no genre is inherently, categorically superior or inferior.(Hypothesis on Literature vs. Genre)”
“If you can see a thing whole," he said, "it seems that it's always beautiful. Planets, lives. . . . But close up, a world's all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you loose the pattern. You need distance, interval. The way to see how beautiful earth is, is to see it from the moon. The way to see how beautiful life is, is from the vantage point of death." "That's all right for Urras. Let it stay off there and be the moon-I don't want it! But I am not going to stand up on a gravestone and look down on life and say, 'O lovely!' I want to see it whole right in the middle of it, here, now. I don't give a hoot for eternity." "It's nothing to do with eternity," said Shevek, grinning, a thin shaggy man of silver and shadow. "All you have to do to see life as a whole is to see it as mortal. I'll die, you'll die; how could we love each other otherwise? The sun's going to burn out, what else keeps it shining?" "Ah! your talk, your damned philosophy!" "Talk? It's not talk. It's not reason. It's hand's touch. I touch the wholeness, I hold it. Which is moonlight, which is Takver? How shall I fear death? When I hold it, when I hold in my hands the light-" "Don't be propertarian," Takver muttered. "Dear heart, don't cry." "I'm not crying. You are. Those are your tears." "I'm cold. The moonlight's cold." "Lie down." A great shiver went through his body as she took him in her arms. "I'm afraid, Takver," he whispered.”