Books swept me away, this way and that, one after the other; I made endless vows according to their lights for I… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
I have since only rarely seen the tree with the lights in it. The vision comes and goes, mostly goes, but I… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. When the… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
When I walk with a camera, I walk from shot to shot, reading the light on a calibrated meter. When I walk… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Today is one of those excellent January partly cloudies in which light chooses an unexpected part of the landscape to trick out… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it? But the world without… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
The morning woods were utterly new. A strong yellow light pooled beneath the trees; my shadow appeared and vanished on the path,… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Noticing and remembering everything would trap bright scenes to light and fill the blank and darkening past which was already piling up… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“I have often noticed that these things, which obsess me, neither bother nor impress other people even slightly. I am horribly apt… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Peeping through my keyhold I see within the range of only about 30 percent of the light that comes from the sun;… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
We live in all we seek. The hidden shows up in too-plain sight. It lives captive on the face of the obvious - the… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
“...The mockingbird took a single step into the air and dropped. His wings were still folded against his sides as though he were singing… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
“Father had stretched out his long legs and was tilting back in his chair. Mother sat with her knees crossed, in blue slacks, smoking… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
It should surprise no one that the life of the writer - such as it is - is colorless to the point of sensory… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
It is madness to wear ladies' straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
The sense impressions of one-celled animals are not edited for the brain. This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
“What can we make of the inexpressible joy of children? It is a kind of gratitude, I think—the gratitude of the ten-year-old who wakes… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
“If we were to judge nature by its common sense or likelihood, we wouldn't believe the world existed. In nature, improbabilities are the one… — Annie Dillard Copy Share
For writing a first draft requires from the writer a peculiar internal state which ordinary life does not induce. ... how to set yourself spinning? — Annie Dillard Copy Share
