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I couldn't unpeach the peaches.

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
Peaches
Couldn

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Dan Gerber is one of our finest living poets.
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As soon as beauty is sought not from religion and love, but for pleasure, it degrades the seeker.
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As a life's work, I would remember everything - everything, against loss. I would go through life like a plankton net.
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What I call innocence is the spirit's unself-conscious state at any moment of pure devotion to any object. It is at once a receptiveness and total concentration.
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Every spring he vowed to quit teaching school, and every summer he missed his pupils and searched for them on the streets.
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I think the dying pray at the last not please, but thank you, as a guest thanks his host at the door.
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We have not yet encountered any god who is as merciful as a man who flicks a beetle over on its feet.
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Knowing you are alive is watching on every side your generation's short time falling away as fast as rivers drop through air, and feeling it hit.
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I don't know what it is about fecundity that so appalls. I suppose it is the teeming evidence that birth and growth, which we value, are ubiquitous and blind, that life itself is so astonishingly cheap, that nature is as careless as it is bountiful, and that with extravagance goes a crushing waste that will one day include our own cheap lives.
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She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live.
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[Insects] are not only cold-blooded, and green- and yellow-blooded, but are also cased in a clacking horn. They have rigid eyes and brains strung down their backs. But they make up the bulk of our comrades-at-life, so I look to them for a glimmer of companionship.
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Novels written with film contracts in mind have a faint but unmistakable, and ruinous, odor.
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I alternate between thinking of the planet as home - dear and familiar stone hearth and garden - and as a hard land of exile in which we are all sojourners.
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What a hideout: Holiness lies spread and borne over the surface of time and stuff like color.
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What is a house but a bigger skin, and a neighborhood map but the world's skin ever expanding?
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I'd seen a great many partial eclipses, but a partial eclipse has the same relation to a total eclipse as flirting with a man does to marrying him. It's completely different.
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Divinity is not playful. The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensibl e earnest. By a power that is unfathomably secret, and holy, and fleet. There is nothing to be done about it, but ignore it, or see.
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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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No, the point is not only does time fly and do we die, but that in these reckless conditions we live at all, and are vouchsafed, for the duration of certain inexplicable moments, to know it.
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Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?
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