Godkiller

The people with the sharpest edges sometimes hid the deepest wounds

Funerals are for the living," said Kissen as she noticed Inara looking. "The dead don't mind what the world does to them.

What happened to us does not define us, next is what matters.

You are worth more than you think. You are still alive; make something of it. Of life, not death.

People make gods, and, for better or worse, gods make people.

Fate was a fairy story and a bullshit one at that; fate could get fucked and go bother someone else.

Why do you get to give up? Why do you get to decide what your life is worth?

Let him die. I'm sure he lets other people die for him all the time. Let him have a try.

Ask a god's business and become a god's business.

Gods are not always the enemy; even your godkiller knows that. People make gods, and for better or worse, gods make people.

It was harder to unmake a god than begin one.

It is all right. Memories can hurt you. It’s all right to be hurt. You’re safe.

Names have power, and gods felt the tug of theirs like a hook in their gills, pulling them into the open.

If no one fights in your corner, then you learn to fight for yourself. (p. 203)

It is your body, my love; it is your choice.

Even big gods are not so bright. Even small lives are worth something.

That’s why people need white lies, isn’t it? To protect them from a truth that causes pain.

Kissen decided to be more proud than afraid.

People you trust can turn on you if it pleases them. (p. 161)

Gods began as spirits, drawn to places where people travelled and might need them. One day, they might gather enough willpower to blow dust on the road in the right direction for home or cause a thief’s bow to misfire at the perfect moment. Then, someone might give thanks, give offerings, give them shape. Even when their shrine is gone, their power can linger. A shrine is like the keel of a ship; it holds them together.

I can rid you of it, you know,' said Ennerast, leaning forward over the blade, pressing her face close to Kissen's. 'This promise, the scars, the memory.' She brushed Kissen's cheek. 'More powerful gods than you have made me offers, Ennerast,' said Kissen, 'and I killed them just the same.

What happened to us does not define us, what we do next is what matters. (p. 248)

But at least, at the very least, he now had someone to fight alongside, though he would not in a thousand years have suspected it would be a god, a godkiller, and a child.

What are you, pretty-boy?” she said. “Some sort of knight?” The man blinked, his colours rippling. “I am a baker,” he said coldly, finally turning to follow Jon. “Yeah,” said Kissen, “and I’m a grapefruit.

I take my own side, knight, I always have,” said Kissen carefully. “If no one fights in your corner, then you learn to fight for yourself.

If you're trying to matyr-fuck me, I'll tear both your legs off.

No matter; small men liked to hold big things.