Immortality gets very, very boring. You'd be surprised at how interesting the small mundanities of life can seem after a few millennia.

But perhaps that was just the way of power: no such thing as too much.

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.

There's truth even in tainted knowledge, if one reads carefully.

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.

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

I remembered Nahadoth's lips on my throat and fought to suppress a shudder, only half succeeding. Death as a consequence of lying with a god wasn't something I had considered, but it did not surprise me. A mortal man's 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 woman's head into the clouds, he might try ten that brought her back to earth.