No one owns you, I know that. No one owns me. No one owns anyone. We just get to borrow each for a while.

We die every day," Kit said. "It's called being human.

She was herself, the original. Everyone else was just a copy.

It followed that every act, whether the finding of a new proof for a complex mathematical problem or a twist of vision that turned one school of art into another was a result of endless failure.

There was nothing to compare with standing on a piece of land you owned free and clear. No one could push you off it, no one could take it from you, no one could tell you what to do with it.

... “Dangerous!” Vea laughed radiantly. “What an utterly marvellous compliment! Why am I dangerous, Shevek?”
“Why, because you know that in the eyes of men you are a thing, a thing owned, bought, sold. And so you think only of tricking the owners, of getting revenge –”...