I think the most interesting parts of human experience might be the sparks that come from that sort of chipping flint of cultures rubbing against each other. And living on the border between Mexico and the U.S. for so many years gave me a lot of insight into that.
Barbara KingsolverAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: american
- Born: April 8, 1955
Related Authors
Topics
Quotes currently Trending
dan brown\The televangelist began quoting verses from the Bible describing hierarchy of angels, demons, and spirits that ruled in heaven and hell. "Protect your souls from evil forces!" He warned them. "Lift your hearts in prayer! God and his angels will hear you!" He's right, Mal'akh knew. But so will the demons.
Dan Brown
I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond-side; and though it is five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct. It is true, I fear that others may have fallen into it, and so helped to keep it open. The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels. How worn and dusty, then, must be the highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity!
Henry David Thoreau
I tell you, the old-fashioned doctor who treated all diseases has completely disappeared, now there are only specialists, and they advertise all the time in the newspapers. If your nose hurts, they send you to Paris: there's a European specialist there, he treats noses. You go to Paris, he examines your nose: I can treat only your right nostril, he says, I don't treat left nostrils, it's not my specialty, but after me, go to Vienna, there's a separate specialist there who will finish...
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Hour of Stars (1920)The round silence of night, one note on the staveof the infinite. Ripe with lost poems, I step naked into the street. The blackness riddledby the singing of crickets: sound, that deadwill-o'-the-wisp, that musical lightperceivedby the spirit. A thousand butterfly skeletonssleep within my walls. A wild crowd of young breezesover the river.
Federico Garcia Lorca