There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are hard to come by. A life of good days… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live. She read books as one would breathe ether, to… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Why are we reading if not in hope that the writer will magnify and dramatize our days, will illuminate and inspire us… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed? Can the writer… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“So it is that a writer writes many books. In each book, he intended several urgent and vivid points, many of which… — 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
Those of us who read carried around with us like martyrs a secret knowledge, a secret joy, and a secret hope: There… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“Our reading was subversive, and we knew it... I was now believing books more than I believed what I saw and heard...… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
I wake up thinking: What am I reading? What will I read next? I'm terrified that I'll run out, that I will… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed? — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
“Who would call a day spent reading a good day? But a life spent reading--that is a good life. A day that… — 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
