The artist as magician. The Trickster. Prospero. That is the only truly allegorical aspect it has of which I am conscious. If there are other allegories in it please don't tell me; I hate allegories. A is "really" B, and a hawk is "really" a handshaw-bah. Humbug. Any creation, primary or secondary, with any vitality to it, can "really" be a dozen mutually exclusive things at once, before breakfast.

Ursula K. Le Guin. The Language of the Night

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