I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Whenever there is stillness there is the still small voice, God's speaking from the whirlwind, nature's old song, and dance... — 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
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
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
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
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one,… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
I still try to keep my eyes open. I'm always on the lookout for antlion traps in sandy soil, monarch pupae near… — Annie Dillard Copy Share Image
Tonight I walked around the pond scaring frogs; a couple of them jumped off, going, in effect, eek, and most grunted, and… — 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
