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
The substance of grief is not imaginary. It's as real as rope or the absence of air, and like both those things, it can kill.
The writing has been on the wall for some years now, but we are a nation illiterate in the language of the wall. The writing just gets bigger. Something will eventually bring down the charming, infuriating naïveté of Americans that allows us our blithe consumption and cheerful ignorance of the secret ugliness that bring us whatever we want.
The important thing isn't the house. It's the ability to make it. You carry that in your brain and in your hands, wherever you go.
What life can I live that will let me breathe in and out and love somebody or something and not run off screaming into the woods?
Global commerce is driven by a single conviction: the inalienable right to earn profit, regardless of any human cost.
Once the rains abated, my father's garden thrived in the heat like an unleashed temper.
it's the thing you fear most that walks beside you all the time.
Your own family resemblances are a frustrating code, most easily read by those who know you least.
Scientific illiteracy in our populations is leaving too many of us unprepared to discuss or understand much of the damage we are wreaking on our atmosphere, our habitat, and even the food that enters our mouths.
The march of human progress seemed mainly a matter of getting over that initial shock of being here.
Vengeance does not subtract any numbers from the equation of murder; it only adds them.
A person could spend most of a lifetime in retrospective terror, thinking of all the things one nearly didn't do.
The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for!
No kind of bomb ever built will extinguish hatred.