Sadness is more or less like a head cold - with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.
Barbara KingsolverRead
This Forest eats itself and lives forever.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote suggests that nature has a self-sustaining cycle where old life gives way to new life, illustrating the interconnectedness and resilience of ecosystems.
Barbara Kingsolver's quote reflects the idea that forests, and nature as a whole, engage in a continuous cycle of growth, decay, and regeneration. The phrase 'eats itself' implies that as trees die and decompose, they provide nutrients that support the growth of new life, showcasing the resilience and eternal nature of ecosystems. It emphasizes the intricate balance of life, wherein one form of existence feeds another, ultimately reinforcing the idea that nature perpetuates itself through this dynamic process.
Themes
NatureEcosystemRegenerationLife CycleInterconnectedness
In practice
Example use cases
In a speech about sustainable practices, one could use this quote to highlight the importance of preserving forests as vital ecosystems.
More from Barbara Kingsolver
All quotes βChildren can be your heartache. But that doesn't matter, you have to go on and have them . . . it works out.
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I'm of a fearsome mind to throw my arms around every living librarian who crosses my path, on behalf of the souls they never knew they saved.
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I did it to win love, and to prove myself capable. Not to move mountains. In my opinions, mountains don't move. They only look changed when you look down on them from great height.
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Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.
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Empathy is really the opposite of spiritual meanness. It's the capacity to understand that every war is both won and lost. And that someone else's pain is as meaningful as your own.
Barbara KingsolverRead
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I go to books and to nature as a bee goes to the flower, for a nectar that I can make into my own honey.
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When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.
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I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
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The Westerly Wind asserting his sway from the south-west quarter is often like a monarch gone mad, driving forth with wild imprecations the most faithful of his courtiers to shipwreck, disaster, and death.
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