Quote

But enough is enough. One turns at last even from glory itself with a sigh of relief. From the depths of mystery, and even from the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home.

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
Last
Sigh
Home
Height
Latitudes
Back
Relief
Latitude
Enough
Depth
Heights
Even
Glory
Bounce
Mystery
Splendor
Turns
Hurry
Lasts
Depths

More quotes by Annie Dillard

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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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It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave. It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind. The very holy mountains are keeping mum. We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it we are lighting matches in vain under every green tree.
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There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it?
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People who read are not too lazy to turn on the television they prefer books.
Annie Dillard
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Geography is the key, the crucial accident of birth. A piece of protein could be a snail, a sea lion, or a systems analyst, but it had to start somewhere. This is not science it is merely metaphor. And the landscape in which the protein starts shapes its end as surely as bowls shape water.
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Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we sense them.
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What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?
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The universe is illusion merely, not one speck of it real, and we are not only its victims, falling always into or smashed by a planet slung by the sun-but also its captives, bound by the mineral-made ropes of our senses.
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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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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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The irrational haunts the metaphysical.
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The creatures I seek do not want to be seen.
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Our life seems cursed to be a wiggle merely, and a wandering without end.
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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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As soon as beauty is sought not from religion and love, but for pleasure, it degrades the seeker.
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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 that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.
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There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.
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I have since only rarely seen the tree with the lights in it. The vision comes and goes, mostly goes, but I live for it, for the moment when the mountains open and a new light roars in spate through the crack, and the mountains slam.
Annie Dillard
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Cruelty is a mystery, and a waste of pain.
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Those of us who read carried around with us like martyrs a secret knowledge, a secret joy, and a secret hope: There is a life worth living where history is still taking place there are ideas worth dying for, and circumstances where courage is still prized.
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