What we suffered in our lives we went through together, but somehow we came out different doors, on different ground levels.
Barbara KingsolverWhy is it that only girls stand on the sides of their feet? As if they're afraid to plant themselves?
Barbara KingsolverEl tiempo cura y nos mata. Time cures you first, and then it kills you.
Barbara KingsolverShe is not a bulldog, only a woman pressed into the shape of a small jar, possibly attempting to dance in there. It shows in the way she places a seashell on a window sill, a red-painted chair in the corner: she is practiced in the art of creating a still life and taking up residence inside it.
Barbara KingsolverStichwörter: the-lacuna
Oh, America the Beautiful, where are our standards? How did Europeans, ancestral cultures to most of us, whose average crowded country would fit inside one of our national parks, somehow hoard the market share of Beautiful? They’ll run over a McDonald’s with a bulldozer because it threatens the way of life of their fine cheeses. They have international trade hissy fits when we try to slip modified genes into their bread. They get their favorite ham from Parma, Italy, along with a favorite cheese, knowing these foods are linked in an ancient connection the farmers have crafted between the milk and the hogs. Oh. We were thinking Parmesan meant, not “coming from Parma,” but “coming from a green shaker can.” Did they kick us out for bad taste?
No, it was mostly for vagrancy, poverty, or being too religious. We came here for the freedom to make a Leaves of Grass kind of culture and hear America singing to a good beat, pierce our navels as needed, and eat whatever we want without some drudge scolding: “You don’t know where that’s been!” And boy howdy, we do not.” (p.4)
Stichwörter: animal-vegetable-miracle
Like kids who only ever get socks for Christmas, but still believe with all their hearts in Santa.
Barbara KingsolverStichwörter: christmas metaphor santa heartbreaking
Time cures you first, and then it kills you.
Barbara KingsolverStichwörter: time
A story is like a painting, Sóli. It doesn’t have to look like what you see out the window.
Barbara KingsolverOur childhood had passed over into history overnight. The transition was unnoticed by anyone but ourselves.
Barbara KingsolverI prefer to remain anomalous.
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