…flying like a bird, a dragon, a child, free.
After Farmer Flint of the Middle Valley died, his widow stayed on the farmhouse.
[incipit]
But Ged and Ogion had lived here, bachelors, without women; everywhere Ged had lived, it was without women; so he did the “women’s work” and thought nothing about it. It would be a pity, she thought, if he did think about it, if he started fearing that his dignity hung by a dishcloth.
Tenar: Is it different, then, for men and for women?
Moss: What isn’t, dearie?
Tenar: I don’t know. It seems to me we make up most of the differences, and then complain about ‘em.
He could not hate her more. To be a woman was her fault. Nothing could worsen or amend it, in his eyes; no punishment was enough.
It did not seem to Tenar that anybody or anything in the world had been kept out of Gont Port. It was all here.
What are we so afraid of? Why do we let ‘em tell us we’re afraid? What is it they’re afraid of? […] What are they afraid of us for?
Tenar
Tenar When has a woman power because she’s a woman? […]
Ged: In her house, maybe.
Tenar: But the doors are shut, the doors are locked.
Ged: Because you’re valuable.
Tenar: Oh, yes. We’re precious. So long as we’re powerless…. […] Lark and I talked about this once. She said, ‘Why are men afraid of women?’
Ged: If your strength is only the other’s weakness, you live in fear.
Tenar: Yes; but women seem to fear their own strength, to be afraid of themselves.
Ged: Are they ever taught to trust themselves? […]
Tenar: No. Trust is not what we’re taught.
Tehanu, Ursula K. Le Guin
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