N.K. Jemisin

“It had not been all suffering and horror. Life is never only one thing.”

“Inevitable is not the same as immediate, Sieh--and love does not mandate forgiveness.”

“Of course I was enough, because he loved me. That was the whole point.”

“Only learning oneself better, and understanding one’s place in the world, made the touch of another mundane.”

“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– we all dream.”

“Any woman can face the world alone, but why should we have to?”

“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.”

“We began to call ourselves Maroneh, which meant "those who weep for Maro" in the common language we once spoke. We named our daughters for sorrow and our sons for rage; we debated whether there was any point in trying to rebuild our race. We thanked Itempas for saving even the handful of us who remained, and we hated the Arameri for making that prayer necessary.”

“beware love, especially the wrong man”

“Love betrayed has an entirely different sound from hatred outright.”

“But when I got angry, my nerves sought an outlet, and my mouth didn't always guard the gates.”

“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.”

“Four are the tributaries of the great river. Four are the harvests from floodseason to dust. Four are the great treasures: timbalin, myrrh, lapis, and jungissa. Four bands of color mark the face of the Dreaming Moon. Red for blood. White for seed. Yellow for ichor. Black for bile.”

“True peace required the presence of justice, not just the absence of conflict.”

“Determination could easily become obsession.”

“...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.”

“So there was love, once. More than love. And now there is more than hate. Mortals have no words for what we gods feel. Gods have no words for such things. But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always love left, underneath. Horrible, isn't it?”

“There is nothing foolish about hope.”

“Calling something exotic emphasizes its distance from the reader. We don’t refer to things as exotic if we think of them as ordinary. We call something exotic if it’s so different that we see no way to emulate it or understand how it came to be. We call someone exotic if we aren’t especially interested in viewing them as people — just as objects representing their culture.”

“I have decided to live,” he said quietly.That, too, was obvious from the way he’d changed in the past year. I felt his gaze as he spoke, heavier than usual along my skin. He had been my friend, and now offered more. Was willing to try more. But I knew: he was not the sort of man who loved easily, or casually. If I wanted him, I would have all of him, and he wanted all of me. All or nothing; that was as fundamental to his nature as light itself.I tried to joke. “It took you a year to decide that?”“Ten, yes,” Shiny replied. “This last year was for you to decide.”

“Funny thing, employment. If you keep doing it, you keep getting paid.”

“If the gods do decide to wipe us out, is it such a bad thing? Maybe we've earned a little annihilation.”

“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.”

“They live forever. But many of them are even more lonely and miserable than we are. Why do you think they bother with us? We teach them life's value.”

“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.”

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

“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.”

“... la luz depende de la presencia de otras luces. Si las quitas, el resultado es la oscuridad. Pero lo contrario no es cierto: si eliminas la oscuridad, el resultado es solo más oscuridad. La oscuridad puede existir por si sola. La luz no.”

“La soledad es la oscuridad del alma”

“Once upon a time there was aOnce upon a time there was aOnce upon a time there was aStop this. It's undignified.”

“In a child's eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.”

“The priest's lesson: beware the Nightlord, for his pleasure is a mortal's doom. My grandmother's lesson: beware love, especially with the wrong man.”

“It is blasphemy to separate oneself from the earth and look down on it like a god. It is more than blasphemy; it is dangerous. We can never be gods, after all - but we can become something less than human with frightening ease.”

“Las buenas intenciones carecen de sentido sin el deseo de llevarlas a la práctica”

“-El cambio existe -dije en medio de un bostezo-.Tenemos que aceptarlo.-No -replicó él-. No tenemos por qué. Yo nunca lo hice. Oree, yo soy la luz permanente que mantiene a raya la hirviente oscuridad. La roca inamovible que el río tiene que rodear. Puede que no te guste yo. Pero sin mi influencia, este reino sería la anarquía, el caos. Un infierno más allá de la imaginación de los mortales.”

“-Puede que haya un modo de que escapemos de este lugar -dijo Lúmino al día siguiente.(...)-¿Cómo? -pregunté, pero entonces se me ocurrió una idea-. Tu magia. la recuperas cuando me proteges.-Sí.(...)-Pero ahora estoy en peligro... Lo estoy desde que me secuestraron los Luces. -Y no había ni el menor destello de magia en él.-Puede que sea una cuestión de medida. O puede que haga falta una amenaza física.Suspiré. Estaba deseando tener esperanzas.-Muchos "puede" son ésos. Supongo que nadie tuvo la delicadeza de darte unas instrucciones sobre cómo... funcionas ahora, ¿verdad?-No.-¿Pues qué propones, entonces? ¿Ataco a Serymn, y cuando me responda, vuelas la casa por los aires y nos matas a todos?Hubo un momento de pausa. Creo que mi sarcasmo lo molestaba.-En esencia, sí. Pero no sería muy lógico que te matara a ti, así que limitaré la cantidad de fuerza que utilice.-Agradezco tu consideración, Lúmino, en serio.”

“El brillo ha sido vuestra paz, vuestra prosperidad, no la de los demás.”

“Está muy bien decir que el mundo se rige por los valores de la razón, la compasión y la justicia, pero si nada de lo que hay en realidad refleja esas palabras, carecen de sentido.”

“Ya conoces la verdad sobre Itempas. Es el dios del calor y de la luz, que todos consideramos cosas agradables y delicadas. Yo antes también lo veía así. Pero el calor, si no se enfría, quema y la luz, si nada la eclipsa, puede lastimar hasta unos ojos ciegos como los míos. Tendría que haberme dado cuenta. Tendríamos que habernos dado cuenta todos. Él nunca fue lo que queríamos que fuese.”

“Quieres controlar tu muerte porque no puedes controlar tu vida.”

“Estoy cansada de ser lo que todos los demás han hecho de mí. Quiero ser yo misma.”

“As for the danger of alienating people with good intentions — well, one of the things that I learned from RaceFail (and also from general experience) was that people with good intentions are the ones to fear most. The overt racists are easy to deal with. You can spot them coming a mile away. But the well-intentioned people are scarier. They might not intend harm, but in most cases they haven’t thought about all the racist (and other “-ist”) messages they’ve absorbed from society. They haven’t done the basic groundwork necessary to purge themselves of that passively-absorbed “-ism”. So they say the most incredibly hurtful, self-absorbed, and utterly useless things, then compound the problem by getting upset when they’re called on it. I liken these people to sleeper agents — they seem OK at first, but then they suddenly “activate” and stab you in the back, and then they come out of their fugue and freak because there’s blood on their hands and they don’t know how it got there and they refuse to accept that they’re the ones who put it there, OMG, OMG. Meanwhile, you’re on the floor bleeding out, unnoticed because of their histrionics.The rage of RaceFail made many of these well-intentioned sleeper agents wake up. So while yes, I think the anger risked alienating some of them, I’m fine with that. They were always dangerous; I haven’t lost anything by their alienation. The ones who wake up are a gain (or they will be, once they shift from “not causing harm” anymore to “actually trying to help”).”

“Loneliness is a darkness of the soul”

“In the future, as in the present, as in the past, black people will build many new worlds.This is true. I will make it so. And you will help me.”

“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.”

“And once upon a time I wondered: Is writing epic fantasy not somehow a betrayal? Did I not somehow do a disservice to my own reality by paying so much attention to the power fantasies of disenchanted white men?But. Epic fantasy is not merely what Tolkien made it.This genre is rooted in the epic — and the truth is that there are plenty of epics out there which feature people like me. Sundiata’s badass mother. Dihya, warrior queen of the Amazighs. The Rain Queens. The Mino Warriors. Hatshepsut’s reign. Everything Harriet Tubman ever did. And more, so much more, just within the African components of my heritage. I haven’t even begun to explore the non-African stuff. So given all these myths, all these examinations of the possible… how can I not imagine more? How can I not envision an epic set somewhere other than medieval England, about someone other than an awkward white boy? How can I not use every building-block of my history and heritage and imagination when I make shit up?And how dare I disrespect that history, profane all my ancestors’ suffering and struggles, by giving up the freedom to imagine that they’ve won for me.”

“Myths tell us what those like us have done, can do, should do. Without myths to lead the way, we hesitate to leap forward. Listen to the wrong myths, and we might even go back a few steps.”

“Throughout my life as I’ve sought to become a published writer of speculative fiction, my strongest detractors and discouragers have been other African Americans. These were people who had, like generations before them, bought into the mythology of racism: black people don’t read. Black people can’t write. Black people have no talents other than singing and dancing and sports and crime. No one wants to read about black people, so don’t write about them. No one wants to write about black people, which is why you never see a black protagonist. Even if you self-publish, black people won’t support you. And if you aim for traditional publication, no one who matters — that is, white people — will buy your work.(A corollary of all this: there is only black and white. Nothing else matters.)Having swallowed these ideas, people regurgitated them at me at nearly every turn. And for a time, I swallowed them, too. As a black woman, I believed I wasn’t supposed to be a writer. Simultaneously I believed I was supposed to write about black people — and only black people. And only within a strictly limited set of topics deemed relevant to black people, because only black people would ever read anything I’d written. Took me years after I started writing to create a protagonist who looked like me. And then once I started doing so, it took me years to write a protagonist who was something different.”

“J. R. R. Tolkien, the near-universally-hailed father of modern epic fantasy, crafted his magnum opus The Lord of the Rings to explore the forces of creation as he saw them: God and country, race and class, journeying to war and returning home. I’ve heard it said that he was trying to create some kind of original British mythology using the structure of other cultures’ myths, and maybe that was true. I don’t know. What I see, when I read his work, is a man trying desperately to dream.Dreaming is impossible without myths. If we don’t have enough myths of our own, we’ll latch onto those of others — even if those myths make us believe terrible or false things about ourselves. Tolkien understood this, I think because it’s human nature. Call it the superego, call it common sense, call it pragmatism, call it learned helplessness, but the mind craves boundaries. Depending on the myths we believe in, those boundaries can be magnificently vast, or crushingly tight.”

“There is a strange emptiness to life without myths.I am African American — by which I mean, a descendant of slaves, rather than a descendant of immigrants who came here willingly and with lives more or less intact. My ancestors were the unwilling, unintact ones: children torn from parents, parents torn from elders, people torn from roots, stories torn from language. Past a certain point, my family’s history just… stops. As if there was nothing there.I could do what others have done, and attempt to reconstruct this lost past. I could research genealogy and genetics, search for the traces of myself in moldering old sale documents and scanned images on microfiche. I could also do what members of other cultures lacking myths have done: steal. A little BS about Atlantis here, some appropriation of other cultures’ intellectual property there, and bam! Instant historically-justified superiority. Worked great for the Nazis, new and old. Even today, white people in my neck of the woods call themselves “Caucasian”, most of them little realizing that the term and its history are as constructed as anything sold in the fantasy section of a bookstore.These are proven strategies, but I have no interest in them. They’ll tell me where I came from, but not what I really want to know: where I’m going. To figure that out, I make shit up.”