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It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave.

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
Recall
Recalls
Damage
Presence
Asked
Leave
Difficult
Undo

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Doing something does not require discipline. It creates its own discipline - with a little help from caffeine.
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The silence is all there is. It is the alpha and the omega, it is God's brooding over the face of the waters it is the blinded note of the ten thousand things, the whine of wings. You take a step in the right direction to pray to this silence, and even to address the prayer to World. Distinctions blur. Quit your tents. Pray without ceasing.
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The life of sensation is the life of greed it requires more and more. The life of the spirit requires less and less.
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The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest.
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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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Young children have no sense of wonder. They bewilder well, but few things surprise them. All of it is new to young children, after all, and equally gratuitous.
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You can't test courage cautiously.
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Who and of what import were the men whose bones bulk the Great Wall, the thirty million Mao starved, or the thirty million children not yet five who die each year now? Why, they are the insignificant others, of course living or dead, they are just some of the plentiful others...And you? To what end were we billions of oddballs born?
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A schedule defends from chaos and whim. A net for catching days.
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Time is the continuous loop, the snakeskin with scales endlessly overlapping without beginning or end, or time is an ascending spiral if you will, like a child's toy Slinky.
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No one escapes the wilderness on the way to the promised land.
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Does anything eat flowers. I couldn't recall having seen anything eat a flower - are they nature's privileged pets?
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if you stay still, earth buries you, ready or not.
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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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Fiction keeps its audience by retaining the world as its subject matter. People like the world. Many people actually prefer it to art and spend their days by choice in the thick of it.
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I woke at intervals until . . . the intervals of waking tipped the scales, and I was more often awake than not.
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The dear, stupid body is as easily satisfied as a spaniel.
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The mind wants the world to return its love, or its awareness the mind wants to know all the world, and all eternity, and God.
Annie Dillard
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Books swept me away, this way and that, one after the other I made endless vows according to their lights for I believed them.
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I saw in a blue haze all the world poured flat and pale between the mountains
Annie Dillard