There is nothing foolish about hope.

...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.

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

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

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

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.

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.