"Hope is a renewable option: If you run out of it at the end of the day, you get to start over in the morning."
"The moth settled onto the curtain and sat still. It was an astonishing creature, with black and white wings patterned in geometric shapes, scarlet underwings, and a fat white body with black spots running down it like a snowman's coal buttons. No human eye had looked at this moth before; no one would see its friends. So much detail goes unnoticed in the world."
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Source: Barbara Kingsolver (2008). “Prodigal Summer”, p.140, Faber & Faber
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"Few people know so clearly what they want. Most people can't even think what to hope for when they throw a penny in a fountain."
"There's a graveyard in northern France where all the dead boys from D-Day are buried. The white crosses reach from one horizon to the other. I remember looking it over and thinking it was a forest of graves. But the rows were like this, dizzying, diagonal, perfectly straight, so after all it wasn't a forest but an orchard of graves. Nothing to do with nature, unless you count human nature."
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