We live in all we seek. The hidden shows up in too-plain sight. It lives captive on the face of the obvious… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in all earnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
It makes more sense to write one big book - a novel or nonfiction narrative - than to write many stories or… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in all earnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Just once I wanted a task that required all the joy I had. Day after day I had noticed that if I… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
She is nine, beloved, as open-faced as the sky and as self-contained. I have watched her grow. As recently as three or… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
When you open a book,” the sentimental library posters said, “anything can happen.” This was so. A book of fiction was a… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
The mountains are great stone bells; they clang together like nuns. Who shushed the stars? There are a thousand million galaxies easily… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Cruelty is a mystery, and the waste of pain. But if we describe a word to compass these things, a world that… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Out of a human population on earth of four and a half billion, perhaps twenty people can write a book in a… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
It's a little silly to finally learn how to write at this age. But I long ago realized I was secretly sincere. — 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
