Barbara Kingsolver
Barbara Kingsolver
Barbara Kingsolveris an American novelist, essayist and poet. She was raised in rural Kentucky and lived briefly in the Congo in her early childhood. Kingsolver earned degrees in biology at DePauw University and the University of Arizona and worked as a freelance writer before she began writing novels. Her widely known works include The Poisonwood Bible, the tale of a missionary family in the Congo, and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, a non-fiction account of her family's attempts to eat locally...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth8 April 1955
CountryUnited States of America
It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.
Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side.
The changes we dread most may contain our salvation.
Good fiction creates empathy. A novel takes you somewhere and asks you to look through the eyes of another person, to live another life.
Sometimes the strength of motherhood is greater than natural laws.
Like kids who only ever get socks for Christmas, but still believe with all their hearts in Santa.
How pointless life could be, what a foolish business of inventing things to love, just so you could dread losing them.
I have seen women looking at jewelry ads with a misty eye and one hand resting on the heart, and I only know what they're feeling because that's how I read the seed catalogs in January.
The power is in the balance: we are our injuries, as much as we are our successes.
The average food item on a U.S. grocery shelf has traveled farther than most families go on their annual vacations.
the conspicuous consumption of limited resources has yet to be accepted widely as a spiritual error, or even bad manners
The happiest people are the ones with the most community.
Growing food was the first activity that gave us enough prosperity to stay in one place, form complex social groups, tell our stories, and build our cities.
Misunderstanding is my cornerstone. It's everyone's, come to think of it. Illusions mistaken for truth are the pavement under our feet.