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

N.K. Jemisin

Mots clés inspirational justice peace

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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.

N.K. Jemisin

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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.

N.K. Jemisin

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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.

N.K. Jemisin

Mots clés objectification exoticism

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beware love, especially the wrong man

N.K. Jemisin

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

N.K. Jemisin

Mots clés women

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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.

N.K. Jemisin

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There is nothing foolish about hope.

N.K. Jemisin

Mots clés faith hope

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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?

N.K. Jemisin

Mots clés love hate gods mortals

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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.

N.K. Jemisin

Mots clés pain loss sorrow tears fury

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