“Let the grass die. I let almost all of my indoor plants die from neglect while I was writing the book. There… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Almost all of my many passionate interests, and my many changes of mind, came through books. Books prompted the many vows I… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Skin was earth; it was soil. I could see, even on my own skin, the joined trapezoids of dust specks God had… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Divinity is not playful. The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensibl e earnest. By a power that is… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
You are wrong if you think that you can in any way take the vision and tame it to the page. The… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest. — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
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
Our family was on the lunatic fringe. My mother was always completely irrepressible. My father made crowd noises into a microphone. — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Why do you never find anything written about that idiosyncratic thought you advert to, about your fascination with something no one else… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
The universe is illusion merely, not one speck of it real, and we are not only its victims, falling always into or… — 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
