Sadness is more or less like a head cold - with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.
There's such a gulf between yourself and who you were then, but people speak to that other person and it answers; it's like having a stranger as a house guest in your skin.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the changes people undergo over time and how their past selves can feel like strangers.
Barbara Kingsolver's quote explores the deep sense of change that occurs within individuals as they grow and evolve. It suggests that while we may have fundamentally changed from who we once were, the old thoughts and experiences can still resonate within us, leading to a disconnection between our past and present selves. The metaphor of having a 'stranger as a house guest in your skin' emphasizes the surreal feeling of recognizing our former selves but feeling distanced from them.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used during a motivational speech about personal growth.
More from Barbara Kingsolver
All quotes →Children can be your heartache. But that doesn't matter, you have to go on and have them . . . it works out.
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.
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.
Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.
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.
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When I find that so much of my life has stolen unprofitably away, and that I can descry by retrospection scarcely a few single days properly and vigorously employed, why do I yet try to resolve again? I try, because reformation is necessary and despair is criminal. I try, in humble hope of the help of God.
You know how every now and then, you have a moment where your whole life stretches out ahead of you like a forked road, and even as you choose one gritty path you've got your eyes on the other the whole time, certain that you're making a mistake.
Hope for the Best. Expect the worst. Life is a play. We're unrehearsed.
A man who fears nothing is a man who loves nothing; and if you love nothing, what joy is there in your life?
When my parents were liberated, four years before I was born, they found that the ordinary world outside the camp had been eradicated. There was no more simple meal, no thing was less than extraordinary: a fork, a mattress, a clean shirt, a book. Not to mention such things that can make one weep: an orange, meat and vegetables, hot water. There was no ordinariness to return to, no refuge from the blinding potency of things, an apple screaming its sweet juice.
The traveling salesmen fed me pills that made the lining of my veins feel scraped out, my jaw ached... I knew every raindrop by its name, I sensed everything before it happened. Like I knew a certain oldsmobile would stop even before it slowed, and by the sweet voices of the family inside, I knew we'd have an accident in the rain. I didn't care. They said they'd take me all the way.