Avatar Kyoshi Quotes

The Avatar can be reborn. But you can't, Kyoshi. I don't want to give you up to the next generation. I couldn't bear to lose you.

The stupid, smug whims of one unworthy man had left fingerprints on history that weren’t likely to be erased.

No fire is ever the same fire. No Avatar is ever the same person. You and the flame change with every moment, every generation. You are one flame, and you are many.

My friend is not a diplomat. She is the failure of diplomacy. She is the breakdown of negotiations. There is no escalation of hostilities beyond her.

You will never be perfectly fair, and you will never be truly correct,” Lao Ge said. “This is your burden.

This is what you must forgo, Kyoshi, the easy answers. You must give up your desire for someone to tell you your choices were correct in the end.

Human beings could drape themselves in titles and etiquette, but at their hearts they were all the same animal.

She wouldn’t allow herself to become a human scar, a compendium of personal loss. She had the obligation to be more than the sum of her grievances with the world.

They twist the meaning of justice to absolve themselves of conscience.

They look at themselves like forces of nature, as inevitable ends, but they’re not. Their depth is as false as the shoals at low tide. They twist the meaning of justice to absolve themselves of conscience.

Some people in my country like to believe Avatar Yangchen watches over them. But you, Fire Lord. I can assure you that Avatar Kyoshi watches over you.

It’ll never get easier. If you had a strict rule, maybe, to always show mercy or always punish, you could use it as a shield to protect your spirit. But that would be distancing yourself from your duty. Determining the fates of others on a case-by-case basis, considering the infinite combinations of circumstance, will wear on you like rain on the mountain. Give it enough time, and you’ll bear the scars.” He spoke out of kindness and sorrow, perhaps not as immutable as he claimed to be. “You will never be perfectly fair, and you will never be truly correct,” Lao Ge said. “This is your burden.” To keep deciding, over and over again.

Rebuilding always took longer than destruction, cleaning a mess more time than making it.

Only home could make you feel this bad.

She didn't have the right to lose herself in her rage and let it take her to oblivion. No matter what she'd been through. She wouldn't allow herself to become a human scar, a compendium of personal loss. She had the obligation to be more than the sum of her grievances with the world.

It wasn’t the reaction Rangi was looking for, but Kyoshi swelled with a sudden happiness. She couldn’t help it. Rangi acting so completely, utterly normal tugged on a rope connected directly to her heart. It always would.

No one had warned her how empty it would feel to have a singular goal and see it achieved.

Healing was better than destruction.

Certain people . . . they turn you into who you were before.

He knew nothing of leadership besides making demands and doling out cruelties when they weren’t met. Control by tantrum,

Better than open war was not a standard to live by. And yet people seemed content with it.

The instant the facts disagreed with their preconceived notions, people lost their minds.

It’s amazing what the mind can be led to believe,” Lao Ge said.

I wish I could give you your due,” Rangi muttered after some time had passed. “The wisest teachers. Armies to defend you. A palace to live in.” Kyoshi raised an eyebrow. “The Avatar gets a palace?” “No, but you deserve one.” “I don’t need it,” Kyoshi said. She smiled into Rangi’s hair, the soft strands caressing her lips. “And I don’t need an army. I have you.” “Psh,” Rangi scoffed. “A lot of good I’ve been so far. If I were better at my job you would never feel scared. Only loved. Adored by all.” Kyoshi gently nudged Rangi’s chin upward. She could no more prevent herself from doing this than she could keep from breathing, living, fearing. “I do feel loved,” she declared. Rangi’s beautiful face shone in reflection. Kyoshi leaned in and kissed her. A warm glow mapped Kyoshi’s veins. Eternity distilled in a single brush of skin. She thought she would never be more alive than now. And then— The shock of hands pushing her away. Kyoshi snapped out of her trance, aghast. Rangi had flinched at the contact. Repelled her. Viscerally, reflexively. Oh no. Oh no. This couldn’t—not after everything they’d been through—this couldn’t be how it— Kyoshi shut her eyes until they hurt. She wanted to shrink until she vanished within the cracks of the earth. She wanted to become dust and blow away in the wind. But the sound of laughter pulled her back. Rangi was coughing, drowning herself with her own tears and mirth. She caught her breath and retook Kyoshi by the hips, turning to the side, offering up the smooth, unblemished skin of her throat. “That side of my face is busted up, stupid,” she whispered in the darkness. “Kiss me where I’m not hurt.

It was said that each Avatar was born in fitting times, to an era that needed them. Judging by its start, the era of Kyoshi would be marred by uncertainty, fear, and death, the only gifts she seemed capable of producing for the world. The people would never revere her like they did Yangchen or smile at her like they did Kuruk. Then let it be so, she thought. She would fight her ill fortune, her bad stars, and protect those who might despise her to the very end of her days.

Some of my friends in the other nations would argue that, on occasion, truth and beauty must be defended with ugliness. They would claim a gardener who nurtures a flower so others can enjoy it bloom for a few moments must spend much time with their hands buried in dirt.” Kyoshi would have chosen a less pleasant word than dirt. “What do you believe then?” Jinpa smiled sadly. “I believe I have to make peace with my own choices, just like everyone else.” The tint of pain in his expression reminded her too much of Kelsang for her to believe Jinpa was at complete peace with himself. Outsiders enviously and condescendingly assumed Airbenders lived in a state of innocent bliss, but that didn’t give the monks and nuns enough credit for their inner strength. From what Kyoshi knew, belonging to the wandering nation meant a constant struggle with your own morals against the world’s.

Death and time made everyone small, reduced them to trivialities.

This isn’t spiritualism,” he said. “You don’t have to believe. You simply have to practice.

It took so long for the threads of mistakes and monstrous deeds to stop weaving into the future, to just tie themselves off and end. Maybe they never ended.

With their eyes on each other, it was easy to be brave. Maybe that’s the only way we get through this, Kyoshi thought. Just never look away.

There was a tickle against her brow. She and Rangi looked up to see a swirling dance of leaves, spinning around in a circle, the two of them caught in its eye. Kelsang used to make her laugh in the garden like this, by swirling the air, letting her touch the currents and feel the wind run between her fingers. Kyoshi let the breeze play against her skin before giving it a gentle push with her hand. The wind spun faster at her request. She could feel Kelsang smiling warmly at her, a final gift of love. “They’ll always be with us,” she said to Rangi. “Always.

I’ve heard the stories about you, Kyoshi, and I know the things you’ve seen. What do you care if a single peasant lives or dies?” She crossed the distance between them and thrust a closed fan under his chin, stopping short of his throat. “I care more for his life than I do for yours right now,” she said, examining the growing whites of Zoryu’s eyes. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. You live on top of what I control. Your islands are surrounded by my waves. You fill your very lungs at my discretion. So if I hear any news about ‘Yun’ being executed, you will truly learn what it’s like when the spirits forsake you in the face of the elements.

All right then. In that case, I only have one question.” Kyoshi cast her gaze around the room. “Are you sure this is all of you?” The Triad members glanced at each other. Mok’s face swelled with rage, reddening like a berry in the sun. It wasn’t insolence so much as pragmatism, her instinct for tidiness and efficiency rising to the surface. “If not, I can wait until everyone arrives,” Kyoshi said. “I don’t want to have to go back and check each floor.” “Tear her apart!” Mok screamed. The hatchet men charged from all directions. Kyoshi drew one of her fans. Two would have been a bit much.

I’m sorry for saying you had to live with your pain.” Kyoshi put her palm to his chest in a gesture of comfort. “Because you won’t.” The cold she sent through his body formed a tunnel of ice between his ribs. It happened so fast, and with so much force, the moisture in the air behind him turned to frost. His back sprouted vaporous wings of crystal that disappeared just as quickly. With his heart and lungs frozen solid, Yun fell to the side. Kyoshi took the hand with which she’d killed one of the two people she’d loved and placed it against the wound of the other. Water. She needed more water. Her tears of light weren’t enough.

Lek swung his legs off the chair, unable to stay in the same position lest the memory catch up to him. “The funny thing is, Date Grove doesn’t exist anymore. It was running out of water, on its last legs while I was there. It’s been swallowed by the desert. The people of the town killed my brother to uphold the law, and it meant nothing in the end. If the law was there to protect the village, and the village didn’t survive, then what did they gain?

It had been decided long before she was born that power was adequate compensation for losing what she most held dear. But what was the point anymore? What did the generations have to offer her but sorrow and pain? All she knew as she rocked back and forth, cradling the girl she loved in a lullaby of grief, was that if Rangi was taken from her, she would no longer be Kyoshi. She would no longer be human. She would be forever on the other side of the rift, among the swirling colors of the void she’d glimpsed in the Spirit World, watching humans from afar, a terrible and alien presence.

Kelsang used to say there was pain and joy in all things, often when trying to comfort Kyoshi about her earliest years in Yokoya. During her visit to the Fire Nation, Kyoshi had been thrilled each time she discovered another little cache of information about Rangi, like unearthing another bit of treasure. But under the shine was life, grubby and dirty and impossible to burnish. She would take it anyway. Along with everything else about her girl, no matter how unexpected or painful. It took every ounce of her willpower not to lean over and give the Firebender a forbidden kiss on the top of her head.

An innocent man was going to die, and the whole world down to the victim himself was whispering in her ear to stand back and let it happen. Kyoshi’s shriek started low in her stomach and filled her body. It was a sound of pure and total despair. The country would be saved. Her side had won. The guards rounding the corner were thrown back by her cries of anguish, the ghost tearing itself free from her lungs. Yun’s impostor, so ready to die, shuddered away from her howls like they were curses. Kyoshi screamed in the darkness, over and over again, her hatred for the world and herself spiraling into oblivion.

I no longer hold the title for worst breach of manners in the Four Nations,” Kyoshi said. “And I am never, ever going to let you forget it.” Rangi reached over and took her hand. Red scars traveled down Kyoshi’s wrist in wavy, branching patterns like the veins of a palm frond, a token from when she’d fought the lightning. “For as long as you live?” Rangi asked solemnly. Kyoshi smiled and nodded. “For as long as I live.” Rangi pressed her lips to the healed skin on Kyoshi’s knuckles. The kiss sealed a promise to always give each other a hard time for the rest of their days. If Kyoshi held any longing for the past, it was for those simpler moments when she was Rangi’s greatest and only headache.

I’ll tell Rangi you’re up and coherent.” He paused by the door. His expression turned hesitant. “Do you think . . . once things settle down, I might have a chance with her?” Kyoshi stared at him in astonishment. Lek held her gaze as long as he could. Then he burst into laughter. “Your face!” he cackled. “You should see your—Oh, that has to be the face you make in your Avatar portrait! Bug-eyed and furious!” And to think they’d shared a moment. “Go soak your head, Lek,” she snapped. “Sure thing, sister. Or else you’ll do it for me?” He waved his hands in mockery of waterbending and made a drowning noise as he left the room. Kyoshi’s cheeks heated in frustration. And then, like a glacier cracking, they slowly melted into a grin. She noticed what he’d called her for the first time.

Outside, the floorboards creaked from the weight of a person walking, as if complete silence were a cloak the enemy could wear and discard at will. The treading of heavy boots came closer and closer. The doorway filled, blacking out the faint light from the hall, and a tall, incredibly tall, figure stepped inside. A thin line of blood trickled from its throat, as if it had been beheaded and glued back together. A dress of green silk billowed underneath the wound. Its face was a white mask, and its eyes were monstrous streaks of red. Trembling, Kuji raised his blade. He moved so slowly it felt like he was swimming through mud. The creature watched him swing his sword, its eyes on the metal, and somehow, he knew it was fully capable of putting a stop to the action. If it cared to. The edge of the dao bit into his opponent’s shoulder. There was a snapping noise, and a sudden pain lashed his cheek. The sword had broken, the top half bouncing back in Kuji’s face. It was a spirit. It had to be. It was a spirit that could pass through walls, a ghost that could float over floors, a beast impervious to blades. Kuji dropped the handle of the useless sword. His mother had told him once that invoking the Avatar could safeguard him from evil. He’d known as a child she was making up stories. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t decide to believe them right now. Right now, he believed harder than he believed anything in his life. “The Avatar protect me,” he whispered while he could still speak. He fell on his behind and scrambled to the corner of the room, blanketed completely by the spirit’s long shadow. “Yangchen protect me!” The spirit woman followed him and lowered her red-and-white face to his. A human would have passed some kind of judgment on Kuji as he cowered like this. The cold disregard in her eyes was worse than any pity or sadistic amusement. “Yangchen isn’t here right now,” she said in a rich, commanding voice that would have been beautiful had she not held such clear indifference for his life. “I am.

The path that led her to him had simply ended.

Both sides” was a rhetorical weapon used by hypocrites and the ignorant.

No Avatar is ever the same person. You and the flame change with every moment, every generation. YOU are one flame, and you are many." The sounds pouring forth from Nyahitha turned into echoes of themselves, an overtone, a reverberation. They lost their meaning and found their weight. "One and many. You are the flame. One out of many, one and the many.

Let me make myself perfectly clear. You live on top of what I control. Your islands are surrounded by my waves. You fill your very lungs at my discretion. So if I hear any news about ‘Yun’ being executed, you will truly learn what it’s like when the spirits forsake you in the face of the elements.

Kyoshi realized that comforting her throughout the night was both an honor and a torture she wouldn’t have traded for anything in the world.

When Jianzhu told him they were obligated to survey the extent of the damage inflicted by the

Lu Beifong had read the trigrams, King Buro of Omashu gave it a shot, Neliao the Gardener took her

No one is entitled to their every desire. To live in balance, we must willingly decide not to take all that we can from the world, and from others.

She surged forward and grabbed Zoryu by the shoulders. Manhandling the Fire Lord was probably punishable by death, but right now Kyoshi could only see a scared young person whose weakness was going to get everyone killed. She saw herself. And she hated it. “You have to be stronger,” she said. She could have been talking into a mirror. “We have to be stronger. Our opponents in this game are playing for blood and they’re willing to break every rule. We have to break a few as well.

There’s a saying among the destitute of the Ba Sing Se Lower Ring,” Kyoshi said. “The ones who are so poor that if they find a copper piece in the street, they take it straight to the gambling dens and the numbers rackets, because a single coin won’t make a difference in their survival. ‘You either accept the risk of winning, or the guarantee of losing.

She could hear Jianzhu laughing in her ear. Or maybe it was Kelsang weeping over the loss of his daughter, her betrayal of his example.

In the Fire Nation, hair was heavily linked with honor. She’d heard that sometimes the losers of an important Agni Kai would shave parts of their head bald, laying patches of their scalp bare to symbolize an extra level of humility from their defeat, but the topknot was always sacred. It was never touched except in circumstances akin to death.

Political conflict is also a must: Whether it’s a world war or a revolution, the Avatar inevitably ends up in the center of the fight before he or she is ready.

The rest of the soldiers attacked. They were the royal elite, undoubtedly selected from the best of the best to serve in the palace. But Kyoshi was the Avatar. And she still had a free hand.

She didn’t have the right to lose herself in her rage and let it take her to oblivion.

They were simply good people.

Determining the fates of others on a case-by-case basis, considering the infinite combinations of circumstance, will wear on you like rain on the mountain. Give it enough time, and you’ll bear the scars.

It felt like she was decaying with each step, flakes of her peeling away to reveal hollowness underneath. She was a layer of dried paint surrounding nothing.

Sleeping under the stars. Just two friends. Having a close, private moment of friendship.

Kyoshi felt her heart skip a beat for her friend.

Holy Shu.

She stared at the water until the sun’s reflection became too much, and then reached for her single bag of belongings. Digging around, she found the clay turtle. It was made of earth. It was tiny. She could use it for practice. Small, she thought as she cradled it with both hands. Precise. Silent. Small. She curled her lips in concentration. It was like crooking the tip of her pinky while wiggling her opposite ear. She needed a whole-body effort to keep her focus sufficiently narrow. There was another reason why she didn’t want to seek instruction from a famous bending master with a sterling reputation and wisdom to spare. Such a teacher would never let her kill Jianzhu in cold blood. Her hunger to learn all four elements had nothing to do with becoming a fully realized Avatar. Fire, Air, and Water were simply more weapons she could bring to bear on a single target. And she had to bring her earthbending up to speed too. Small. Precise. The turtle floated upward, trembling in the air. It wasn’t steady the way bent earth should be, more of a wobbling top on its last few spins. But she was bending it. The smallest piece of earth she’d ever managed to control. A minor victory. This was only the beginning of her path. She would need much more practice to see Jianzhu broken in pieces before her feet, to steal his world away from him the way he had stolen hers, to make him suffer as much as possible before she ended his miserable worthless life— There was a sharp crack. The turtle fractured along innumerable fault lines. The smallest parts, the blunt little tail and squat legs, crumbled first. The head fell off and bounced over the edge of the saddle. She tried to close her grip around the rest of it and caught only dust. The powdered clay slipped between her fingers and was taken by the breeze. Her only keepsake of Kelsang flew away on the wind.

According to tradition, there’s a celebration bigger than Twin Sun Day. We eat special foods like spiral-shaped noodles. School is canceled. Do you know how rare it is for school to be canceled in the Fire Nation?

Who in the name of Oma’s bastard children were the Autumn Bloom?

Lek swung his legs off the chair, unable to stay in the same position lest the memory catch up to him. “The funny thing is, Date Grove doesn’t exist anymore. It was running out of water, on its last legs while I was there. It’s been swallowed by the desert. The people of the town killed my brother to uphold the law, and it meant nothing in the end. If the law was there to protect the village, and the village didn’t survive, then what did they gain? “I always wondered if those people felt satisfied about condemning that one boy, that one time, while they fled the sandstorm that buried their houses,” Lek said. “I always hoped Chen’s death was worth it to someone.

Zoryu shrugged, a gesture that looked strange when performed by the leading figure of an entire country. His sturdy shoulder pads weren’t designed for ambivalence and almost swallowed his head as they rose upward.

As Kyoshi lay there, she could feel the gift Kuruk had given her. The battle between the previous Avatar and Father Glowworm had left identifying scars on both parties, marks carved so deep as to be permanent. She and Yun were inheritors of that legacy. She could tell where he was. It was a faint presence, flickering at this distance, but it had direction. She knew if she reached for him, extended the flow of her spirit, she could follow him to his location. He'd likely tracked her through the Fire Nation using the same method. They were each other's beacons, two torches in the darkness. And he'd used that connection over and over again, to make her suffer.

That’s where you’re wrong. The illusion that the self is separate from the rest of the world is the driving factor that limits our potential. Once you realize there’s nothing special about the self, it becomes easier to manipulate.