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It could be that our faithlessness is a cowering cowardice born of our very smallness, a massive failure of imagination... If we were to judge nature by common sense or likelihood, we wouldnt believe the world existed.

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
Born
Cowardice
Sense
Existed
Nature
Massive
Believe
Judge
World
Judging
Faithlessness
Failure
Cowering
Imagination
Smallness
Common
Likelihood

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Unless all ages and races of men have been deluded by the same mass hypnotist (who?), there seems to be such a thing as beauty, a grace wholly gratuitous.
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All my books started out as extravagant and ended up pure and plain.
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Push it. examine all things intensely and relentlessly.
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One of the few things I know about writing is this: Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book, give it, give it all, give it now.
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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.
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We wake, if we ever wake at all, to mystery, rumors of death, beauty, violence.
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The mind itself is an art object ... The mind is a blue guitar on which we improvise the song of the world.
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Nothing moves a woman so deeply as the boyhood of the man she loves.
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Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery.
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The interior life is often stupid.
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Every book has an intrinsic impossibility, which its writer discovers as soon as his first excitement dwindles.
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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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We wake, if ever at all, to mystery.
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Landscape consists in the multiple, overlapping intricacies and forms that exist in a given space at a moment in time.
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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 a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.
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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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Skin was earth it was soil. I could see, even on my own skin, the joined trapezoids of dust specks God had wetted and stuck with his spit the morning he made Adam from dirt. Now, all these generations later, we people could still see on our skin the inherited prints of the dust specks of Eden.
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You do what you do out of your private love of the thing itself.
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