It is not wonderful. It is an ugly world. Not like this one. Annarres is all dusty and dry hills. All meager, all dry. And the people aren't beautiful. They have big hands and feet, like me...But not big bellies. They get very dirty, and take baths together, nobody here does that. The towns are very small and dull, and they are dreary. No palaces. Life is dull, and hard work. You can't always have what you want, or even what you need, because there isn't enough. You Urrasti have enough. Enough air, enough rain, grass, oceans, food, music, buildings, factories, machines, books, clothes, history. You are rich, you own. We are poor, we lack. You have, we do not have. Everything is beautiful here. Only not the faces. On Annares, nothing is beautiful, nothing but the faces. The other faces, the men and women. We have nothing but that, nothing but each other. Here you see the jewels, there you see the eyes. And in the eyes you see the splendor, the splendor of the human spirit. Because our men and women are free--possessing nothing, they are free. And you, the possessors, are the possessed. You are all in jail. Each alone, solitary, with a heap of what he owns. You live in prison, die in prison. It is all I can see in your eyes--the wall, the wall!

You say when he hits you, you don't mind
Because when he hurts you, you feel alive.
Oh, is that what it is?