“Tea with a Torchbearer”

You’d mention dessert, and Ursula Le Guin would say, “Ah yes, the final argument for civilization.”

You’d ask a simple question, and she’d answer like she’s quietly opening a door in your mind: “That depends. Simple things rarely are.”

She’d be kind, but not vague. If you tried to sound profound, she’d probably smile and gently deflate it: “That’s not wisdom. That’s fog in a nice jacket.”

If you complained about the world, she’d nod and say, “Of course it’s a mess. The interesting question is what you make inside it.”

If you said you wanted to write, she’d likely reply, “Good. Start before you feel ready. Read more than you speak. And don’t trust anyone who thinks imagination is decoration.”

And if the dinner got quiet, she might just look at you over her glass and say, “Well. Are we going to be brave, or merely polite?”

The words blend with the page,  
the music fades,  
and all things must pass.

Pennyroyal Tea, Nirvana

Made with duck.ai 💛