made of starlight

“In an instant, the script had written their stories to the end.         At one point in time those people existed.         And then they didn’t.         Because nothing was written. The Phoenix had told Rin that, and the Phoenix had shown Rin that.         And now the unrealized futures of millions were scorched out of existence, like a sky full of stars suddenly darkened.”

“They were monsters!” Rin shrieked. “They were not human!” “Have you ever considered,” he said slowly, “that that was exactly what they thought of us?”

“She had not just altered the fabric of the universe, had not simply rewritten the script. She had torn it, ripped a great gaping hole in the cloth of reality, and set fire to it with the ravenous rage of an uncontrollable god.”

“What was the difference between finite and infinite? There was being and nonbeing and that was it. Time was not real.”

“I believe in gods as a cultural reference. As metaphors. As things we refer to keep us safe because we can’t do anything else, as manifestations of our neuroses. But not as things that I truly trust are real. Not as things that hold actual consequence for the universe”

"Rin forced the last parts of what was human out of her soul and gave way to her hatred. Hating was so easy. It filled a hole inside her. It let her feel something again. It felt so good."

But how does the existence or nonexistence of the gods affect me? Why does it matter how the universe came to be?" "Because you're part of it. Because you exist. And unless you want to only ever be a tiny modicum of existence that doesn't understand its relation to the grander web of things, you will explore.

I don't need your pity. I need you to kill them for me. You have to kill them for me," Venka hissed. "Swear it. Swear on your blood that you will burn them.

If there is a divine creator, some ultimate moral authority, then why do bad things happen to good people? And why would this deity create people at all, since people are such imperfect beings?