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I'm certainly not opposed to digital technology, whose graces I daily enjoy and rely on in so many ways. But I worry about our virtual blinders.

Diane Ackerman

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Diane Ackerman
Age: 76
Born: 1948
Born: October 7
Author
Naturalist
Non-Fiction Writer
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Waukegan
Illinois
Worry
Opposed
Ways
Digital
Enjoy
Rely
Many
Daily
Way
Certainly
Whose
Blinders
Grace
Graces
Technology
Virtual

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I hate the fearful trimming of possibilities that age brings.
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Words are such small things, like confetti in the brain, and yet they are color and clarify everything, they can stain the mind or warp the feelings.
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Love is the best school, but the tuition is high and the homework can be painful.
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Not much is known about alligators. They don't train well. And they're unwieldy and rowdy to work with in laboratories.
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Wonder is the heaviest element on the periodic table. Even a tiny fleck of it stops time.
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Variety is the pledge that matter makes to living things.
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Wonder is a bulky emotion. When you let it fill your heart and mind, there isn't room for anxiety, distress or anything else.
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In the winter, I enjoy cross-country skiing and raising orchids and amaryllises. If I could grow tropical flowers as perennials, I would, especially hibiscus and mandavilla.
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As the most social apes, we inhabit a mirror-world in which every important relationship, whether with spouse, friend or child, shapes the brain, which in turn shapes our relationships.
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It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery, but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between.
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Smell is the mute sense, the one without words.
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...for most people in the [Jewish] Ghetto [of Warsaw] nature lived only in memory -- no parks, birds, or greenery existed in the Ghetto -- and they suffered the loss of nature like a phantom-limb pain, an amputation that scrambled the body's rhythms, starved the senses, and made basic ideas about the world impossible for children to fathom.
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I swear I will not dishonor my soul with hatred, but offer myself humbly as a guardian of nature, as a healer of misery, as a messenger of wonder, as an architect of peace.
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I don't want to be a passenger in my own life.
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Of all the errands life seems to be running, of all the mysteries that enchant us, love is my favorite
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A kiss is like singing into someone's mouth.
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Who would drink from a cup when they can drink from the source?
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habit, a particularly insidious thug who chokes passion and smothers love. Habit puts us on autopilot.
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We would lie on coral sand, below sugary stars, watching Cassiopeia mount her throne and the Great Bear wash its paws in the South. I would say, I have a secret to tell you. And, folding me in your arms, boyish and sly, you would answer: Whisper it into my mouth.
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Human beings are sloshing sacks of chemicals on the move.
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