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Nothing moves a woman so deeply as the boyhood of the man she loves.

Annie Dillard

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Annie Dillard
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: April 30
Author
Essayist
Novelist
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Pittsburg
Pennsylvania
Annie Dillard Doak
Boyhood
Moves
Deeply
Loves
Woman
Moving
Nothing
Men

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A writer looking for subjects inquires not after what he loves best, but after what he alone loves at all.
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There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.
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Silence is not our heritage but our destiny we live where we want to live.
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The more you read, the more you will write. The better the stuff you read, the better the stuff you will write.
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Nothing on earth is more gladdening than knowing we must roll up our sleeves and move back the boundaries of the humanly possible once more.
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Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case. What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon? What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?
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We wake, if we ever wake at all, to mystery, rumors of death, beauty, violence.
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The irrational haunts the metaphysical.
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These are our few live seasons. Let us live them as purely as we can, in the present.
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For writing a first draft requires from the writer a peculiar internal state which ordinary life does not induce. ... how to set yourself spinning?
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Just once I wanted a task that required all the joy I had. Day after day I had noticed that if I waited long enough, my strong unexpressed joy would dwindle and dissipate inside me, like a fire subsiding . . . . Just this once I wanted to let it rip.
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You can't test courage cautiously.
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The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper I cannot quite make it out.
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Experiencing the present purely is being empty and hollow you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall.
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I wake expectant, hoping to see a new thing.
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Admire the world for never ending on you -- as you would an opponent, without taking your eyes away from him, or walking away.
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Dan Gerber is one of our finest living poets.
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I saw in a blue haze all the world poured flat and pale between the mountains
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We wake, if ever at all, to mystery.
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Every live thing is a survivor on a kind of extended emergency bivouac.
Annie Dillard