Home / Quotes / Quote by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Quote by Robin Wall Kimmerer

“It is not enough to weep for our lost landscapes; we have to put our hands in the earth to make ourselves whole again. Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.”

Book:Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants

Work

Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Robin Wall Kimmerer

Robin Wall Kimmerer is an American author, ecologist, and indigenous plant scientist. Born in 1953, she is a member of the Hénan-Hénatsi tribe and an active advocate for environmental protection. Her work blends science, literature, and indigenous knowledge, exploring the relationship between humans and nature. more

“The shocking death of a loved one isn't a wailing thing. The real shudder comes from the world moving on as if nothing's happened. Shops flip their Closed signs to Open, patrons gather at the theaters and soda shops, and people dare smile at things that make them happy, while those left in the ruins find joy in nothing.”

Life Death Joy Mourning

Book:Angel of Greenwood

Source: Angel of Greenwood

“Joy's a subtil elf. I think man's happiest when he forgets himself.”

Joy

Book:The Revenger's Tragedy

Source: The Revenger's Tragedy

“The jar her hand had chosen—and it was an odd old wooden jar, a recognizable crooked shape under her fingers, a reject because it would not sit straight on a shelf, the only empty jar she could find when at the last minute she’d decided to take a little more honey on her journey, a little of the mysterious honey, the honey that seemed to suggest laughter and joy and a long bright horizon, the strong-tasting honey whose distinguishing source she could not identify. She’d almost laughed when she decanted it because the bigger crock it lived in was also very crooked, not merely a reject but so lopsided that her mother had kept trying to throw it out, and her father kept rescuing it; and when her father died her mother kept it after all, for those memories of him. Mirasol had thought, as she carefully poured, that perhaps this honey had an affinity for those who do not sit securely, who do not rest peacefully, who limp instead of walk. She hadn’t quite been able to laugh, but she’d been smiling when she tucked it into its corner of a saddlebag, and the smile had been as refreshing as cold water Ron a hot day. This was the honey that had given her energy in the sennight past when she had none, the honey she had put last into the cup for her last-of-all stop on the pavilion hill.”

Joy Laughter Honey

Book:Chalice

Source: Chalice