Take a photo of a barcode or cover
A review by lory_enterenchanted
City of Illusions by Ursula K. Le Guin
adventurous
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
3.5
Reviews and more on my blog: Entering the Enchanted Castle
A curious variety of villain in this book, whose mark of evil is that they refuse to kill, prating "reverence for life." But there are worse things than causing physical death.
"I honor life, I honor it because it's a much more difficult and uncertain matter than death, and the most difficult and uncertain quality of all is intelligence. The Shing kept their Law and let me live, but they killed my intelligence. Is that not murder? They killed the man I was, the child I had been. To play with a man's mind so, is that reverence? Their law is a lie, and their reverence is mockery."
"In a good season one trusts life; in a bad season one only hopes. But they are of the same essence; they are the mind's indispensable relationship with other minds, with the world, and with time. Without trust, a man lives, but not a human life; without hope, he dies. Where there is no relationship, where hands do not touch, emotion atrophies in void and intelligence grows sterile and obsessed. Between men the only link left is that of owner to slave, or murderer to victim."
A curious variety of villain in this book, whose mark of evil is that they refuse to kill, prating "reverence for life." But there are worse things than causing physical death.
"I honor life, I honor it because it's a much more difficult and uncertain matter than death, and the most difficult and uncertain quality of all is intelligence. The Shing kept their Law and let me live, but they killed my intelligence. Is that not murder? They killed the man I was, the child I had been. To play with a man's mind so, is that reverence? Their law is a lie, and their reverence is mockery."
"In a good season one trusts life; in a bad season one only hopes. But they are of the same essence; they are the mind's indispensable relationship with other minds, with the world, and with time. Without trust, a man lives, but not a human life; without hope, he dies. Where there is no relationship, where hands do not touch, emotion atrophies in void and intelligence grows sterile and obsessed. Between men the only link left is that of owner to slave, or murderer to victim."