...insofar as one denies what is, one is possessed by what is not, the compulsions, the fantasies, the terrors that flock to fill the void. But the void was there. This life lacked realness; it was hollow; the dream creating where there was no necessity to create, had worn thin and sleazy. If this was being, perhaps the void was better."
( Ursula K. Le Guin )
[ The Lathe of Heaven ]
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