Books In English "City Of Illusions" Ursula K. Le Guin | Page 125

Shing had so mindhandled the boy that he was by now, essentially, their
instrument; and even the meaningless message that Folk had given him
might already be known to his Lords.
There was no device or trick, no means or way to get around or get
out. There was only one hope, and that very small: that he could hold on;
that through whatever they did to him he could keep hold of himself and
refuse to forget, refuse to die. The only thing that gave him grounds for
hoping that this might be possible was that the Shing had said it was
impossible.
They wanted him to believe that it was impossible.
The delusions and apparitions and hallucinations of his first hours or
days in Es Toch had been worked on him, then, only to confuse him and
weaken his self-trust: for that was what they were after. They wanted him
to distrust himself, his beliefs, his knowledge, his strength. All the
explanations about mind-razing were then equally a scare, a bogey, to
convince him that he could not possibly withstand their parahypnotic
operations.
Ramarren had not withstood them…
But Ramarren had had no suspicion or warning of their powers or
what they would try to do to him, whereas Falk did. That might make a
difference. Even so, Ramarren's memory had not been destroyed beyond
recall, as they insisted Falk's would be: the proof of that was that they
intended to recall it.
A hope; a very small hope. All he could do was say I will survive in
the hope it might be true; and with luck, it would be. And without luck…?
Hope is a slighter, tougher thing even than trust, he thought, pacing
his room as the soundless, vague lightning flashed overhead. In a good
season one trusts life; in a bad season one only hopes, But they are of the
same essence: they are the mind's indispensable relationship with other
minds, with the world, and with time. Without trust, a man lives, but not a
human life; without hope, he dies. When there is no relationship, where
hands do not touch, emotion atrophies in void and intelligence goes sterile
and obsessed. Between men the only link left is that of owner to slave, or
murderer to victim.
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