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.
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.
There is no greater warrior than a mother protecting her child.
We can never be gods, after all–but we can become something less than human with frightening ease.
If the first words out of your mouth are to cry ‘political correctness!’, … chances are very, very high that you are in fact part of the problem.
There’s truth even in tainted knowledge, if one reads carefully.
There is nothing foolish about hope.
Any woman can face the world alone, but why should we have to?
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.
But perhaps that was just the way of power: no such thing as too much.
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.
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.
If the gods do decide to wipe us out, is it such a bad thing? Maybe we’ve earned a little annihilation.
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?
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.
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.
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.
Immortality gets very, very boring. You’d be surprised at how interesting the small mundanities of life can seem after a few millennia.
Love betrayed has an entirely different sound from hatred outright.
The Cloud Roads has wildly original worldbuilding, diverse and engaging characters, and a thrilling adventure plot. It’s that rarest of fantasies: fresh and surprising, with a story that doesn’t go where ten thousand others have gone before. I can’t wait for my next chance to visit the Three Worlds!
Once upon a time there was a Once upon a time there was a Once upon a time there was a Stop this. It’s undignified.
Loneliness is a darkness of the soul
There is no logic to grief.
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.
…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.