Our life seems cursed to be a wiggle merely, and a wandering without end. — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
I sip my coffee. I look at the mountain, which is still doing its tricks, as you look at a still-beautiful face… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Who and of what import were the men whose bones bulk the Great Wall, the thirty million Mao starved, or the thirty… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Time is the continuous loop, the snakeskin with scales endlessly overlapping without beginning or end, or time is an ascending spiral if… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Geography is the key, the crucial accident of birth. A piece of protein could be a snail, a sea lion, or a… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner's pick, a wood carver's gouge,… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
You can, in short, lead the life of the mind, which is, despite some appalling frustrations, the happiest life on earth. And… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
There is always the temptation in life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for years on end. It… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“This is a spendthrift economy; though nothing is lost, all is spent.” — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Nothing moves a woman so deeply as the boyhood of the man she loves. — 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 Image
“...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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
