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Rising from the dead? Glowing at sunrise? What did that make him, the god of cheerful mornings and macabre surprises?

N.K. Jemisin

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N.K. Jemisin
Surprise
Dead
Macabre
Morning
Mornings
Make
Surprises
Glowing
Sunrise
Cheerful
Rising

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Loneliness is a darkness of the soul
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Immortality gets very, very boring. You'd be surprised at how interesting the small mundanities of life can seem after a few millennia.
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You're very lucky... Friends are precious, powerful things - hard to earn, harder still to keep. You should thank this one for taking a chance on you.
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...and when I lift my head to scream out my fury, a million stars turn black and die. No one can see them, but they are my tears.
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You are Insignificant. One of millions, neither special nor unique. I did not ask for this ignominy, and I resent the comparison. Fine. I don't you like you, either.
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This means, in a way, that true light is dependent on the presence of other lights. Take the others away and darkness results. Yet the reverse is not true: take away darkness and there is only more darkness. Darkness can exist by itself. Light cannot.
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You are what your creators and experiences have made you, like every other being in this universe. Accept that and be done I tire of your whining.
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Funny thing, employment. If you keep doing it, you keep getting paid.
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I am not as I once was. They have done this to me, broken me open and torn out my heart. I do not know who I am anymore. I must try to remember.
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I'm tired of being what everyone else has made me, I said. I want to be myself. Don't be a child. I looked up, startled and angry, though of course there was nothing to see. What? You are what your creators and experiences have made you, like every other being in this universe. Accept that and be done I'm tired of your whining.
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There is no logic to grief.
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If the gods do decide to wipe us out, is it such a bad thing? Maybe we've earned a little annihilation.
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But when I got angry, my nerves sought an outlet, and my mouth didn't always guard the gates.
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So here is why I write what I do: We all have futures. We all have pasts. We all have stories. And we all, every single one of us, no matter who we are and no matter what’s been taken from us or what poison we’ve internalized or how hard we’ve had to work to expel it – – we all get to dream.
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The shadows of Ina-Karekh are the place where nightmares dwell, but not their source. Never forget: the shadowlands are not elsewhere. We create them. They are within.
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Any woman can face the world alone, but why should we have to?
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We can never be gods, after all--but we can become something less than human with frightening ease.
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It is important to appreciate beauty, even when it is evil.
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It was very bad if the council had resorted to recruiting men. By tradition men were our last line of defence, their physical strength bent towards the single and most important task of protecting our homes and children. This meant the council had decided that our only defence was to defeat the enemy, period. Anything else meant the end of Darre.
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But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always a little love left, underneath. Yes. Horrible, isn't it?
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