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“How does one hate a country, or love one? ... I lack the trick of it. I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks,... but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one’s country; is it hate of one’s uncountry? Then it’s not a good thing. It is simply self-love?” — Ursula K. Le Guin
How does one hate a country, or love one? ... I lack the trick of it. I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks,... but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one’s country; is it hate of one’s uncountry? Then it’s not a good thing. It is simply self-love?