Quotes by N.K. Jemisin

For all those that have to fight for the respect that everyone else is given without question.

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.

Syl Anagists assimilation of the world had been over a century before I was ever made; all cities were Syl Anagist. All languages had become Sylanagistine. But there were none so frightened, or so strange in their fear, as conquerors. They conjure phantoms endlessly, terrified that their victims will someday do back what was done to them - even if, in truth, their victims couldnt care less about such pettiness and have moved on. Conquerors live in dread of the day when they are shown to be, not superior, but simply lucky.

I remembered Nahadoths lips on my throat and fought to suppress a shudder, only half succeeding. Death as a consequence of lying with a god wasnt something I had considered, but it did not surprise me. A mortal mans strength had its limits. He spent himself and slept. He could be a good lover, but even his best skills were only guesswork - for every caress that sent a womans head into the clouds, he might try ten that brought her back to earth.

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.

There is such a thing as too much loss. Too much has been taken from you both - taken and taken and taken, until theres nothing left but hope, and youve given that up because it hurts too much. Until you would rather die, or kill, or avoid attachments altogether, than lose one more thing.

Suffering is part of life, she said. All the parts of life are jumbled up together; you cant separate out just the one thing. She parred his hand again, kindly. I could let you kill me now, lovely man, and have peace and good dreams forever. But who knows what I get instead, if I stay? Maybe time to see a new grandchild. Maybe a good joke that sets me laughing for days. Maybe another handsome young fellow flirting with me. She grinned toothlessly, then let loose another horrible, racking cough. Ehiru steadies her with shaking hands. I want every moment of my life, pretty man, the painful and the sweet alike. Until the very end. If these are all the memories I get for eternity, I want to take as many of them with me as I can.

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.

Jija killed his own son for what a completely different person did, long before that sons birth. This, more than anything, helps her finally understand that there is no reasoning with her fathers hatred.

Denying what you are didnt keep people from knowing what you are.And flaunting it isnt what saved you.Ykka takes a deep breath. The muscles in her jaw flex, relax. And that would be why I asked you do this, Cutter. But lets move on.So it goes on.

I think, Hoa says slowly, that if you love someone, you dont get to choose how they love you back.

Because that is how one survives eternity,” I say, “or even a few years. Friends. Family. Moving with them. Moving forward.

The younger man stepped away from the table and came toward me, his whole posture radiating menace. Every Darre woman is taught to deal with such behavior from men. It is an animal trick that they use, like dogs ruffling their fur and growling. Only rarely is there an actual threat behind it, and a womans strength lies in discerning when the threat is real and when it is just hair and noise.

The body fades. A leader who would last relies on more.

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.

We can never be gods, after all--but we can become something less than human with frightening ease.

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.

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 lifes value.

We arent human.Yes. We. Are. His voice turns fierce. I dont give a shit what the something-somethingth council of big important farts decreed, or how the geomests classify things, or any of that. That were not human is just the lie they tell themselves so they dont have to feel bad about how they treat us.

But for a society build on exploitation, there is no greater threat than having no one left to oppress.