May I suggest that you all read? And often. Believe me, it's nice to have something to talk about other than the weather and the Queen's health. Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
Libba BrayRead
In a world beyond this one, that river goes on singing sweetly, enchanting us with what we want to hear, shaping what we need to see in order to keep going. In those waters, all disappointments are forgotten, our mistakes forgiven. Gazing into them, we see a strong father. A loving mother. Warm rooms where we are sheltered, adored, wanted. And the uncertainty of our futures is nothing more than the fog of breath on a windowpane.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on how our perceptions and desires shape our understanding of reality, offering comfort amidst uncertainty.
Libba Bray's quote explores the idea that our imagination and hopes can create a sanctuary in our minds, where past disappointments fade, and we find solace in the figures of nurturing parents and the warmth of home. It emphasizes the resilience of the human spirit and the power of perception to transform our fears into something more manageable, symbolized by the fog on a windowpane—temporary and easily cleared away.
Themes
PerceptionComfortImaginationParental LoveUncertaintyHope
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can serve as a comforting reminder during a graduation speech about facing the future.
More from Libba Bray
All quotes →In school, they would tell you that life wouldn’t come to you; you had to go out and make it your own. But when it came to love, the message for girls seemed to be this: Don’t. Don’t go after what you want. Wait. Wait to be chosen, as if only in the eye of another could one truly find value. The message was confusing and infuriating. It was a shell game with no actual pea under the rapidly moving cups.
Libba BrayRead
I am no longer content to be the scared, obedient schoolgirl. Who are you, a stranger, to tell me what I can and cannot do?
Libba BrayRead
We all walk in a land of dreams. For what are we but atoms and hope, a handful of stardust and sinew? We are weary travelers trying to find our way home on a road that never ends. Am I a part of your dream? or are you but a part of mine?
Libba BrayRead
We're all strangers connected by what we reveal, what we share, what we take away--our stories. I guess that's what I love about books--they are thin strands of humanity that tether us to one another for a small bit of time, that make us feel less alone or even more comfortable with our aloneness, if need be.
Libba BrayRead
How terrible it is to have no cares, no longings. I do not fit. I feel too deeply and want too much. As cages go, it is a gilded one, but I shall not live well in it or any cage for that matter.
Libba BrayRead
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