If I'd known what marriage was going to be like, well, heck, I probably would have tied all those hope-chest linens into a rope and hung myself from a tree!

Barbara Kingsolver

Barbara Kingsolver

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: American

Some suggestions for you :

You can't just sashay into the jungle aiming to change it all over to the Christian style, without expecting the jungle to change you right back.

My little beast, my eyes, my favorite stolen egg. Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I've only found sorrow.

It seems facile to declare one single forbidden fruit, when humans live under so many different kinds of trees.

If you can't live by the laws the LORD God made for the world, they'll go into effect regardless.

The standard approach has been to pump up the dosage of chemicals ... Twenty percent of these approved-for-use pesticides are listed by the EPA as carcinogenic in humans.

On the hill behind her crows flew one by one into the bare trees, arranging their dark blots in the scrim of branches and adding their warnings to the drear sounds of this day. Gone, gone, they rasped. Here was a dead world learning to speak in dissonant, unbearable sounds.

I live in southern Appalachia, so I'm surrounded by people who work very hard for barely a living wage. It's particularly painful that people are working the farms their parents and grandparents worked but aren't living nearly as well.

A dog can't think that much about what he's doing, he just does what feels right.

You can't know somebody, I thought, till you've followed him home.

Pain reaches the heart with electrical speed, but truth moves to the heart as slowly as a glacier.

Love changes everything. I never suspected it would be so. Requited love, I should say ...

God is frightful, God is great--you pick. I choose this: God is in the details, the completely unnecessary miracles sometimes tossed up as stars to guide us. They are the promise of good fortune in a cloudless day, and the animals in the clouds; look hard enough, and you'll see them. Don't ask if they're real.

Stop a minute, right where you are. Relax your shoulders, shake your head and spine like a dog shaking off cold water. Tell that imperious voice in your head to be still.

Illusions mistaken for truth are the pavement under our feet. They are what we call civilization. -Adah Price, The Poisonwood Bible.