Quote

In the early years of the Uprising, we survived on one meal a day of horse meat and soup, but by the end we ate only dried peas, dogs, cats and birds.

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
Horse
Cats
Bird
Survived
Early
Meals
Ends
Birds
Dried
Years
Dogs
Peas
Meat
Uprising
Cat
Meal
Dog
Soup

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History is an agreed-upon fiction.
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There are well-dressed foolish ideas just as there are well-dressed fools.
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Who would drink from a cup when they can drink from the source?
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To begin to understand the gorgeous fever that is consciousness, we must try to understand the senses and what they can tell us about the ravishing world we have the privilege to inhabit.
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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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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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If a mind is just a few pounds of blood, urea, and electricity, how does it manage to contemplate itself, worry about its soul, do time-and-motion studies, admire the shy hooves of a goat, know that it will die, enjoy all the grand and lesser mayhems of the heart ?
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All relationships change the brain - but most important are the intimate bonds that foster or fail us, altering the delicate circuits that shape memories, emotions and that ultimate souvenir, the self.
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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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The visual image is a kind of tripwire for the emotions.
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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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We humans are obsessed with lights...Perhaps it is our way of hurling the constellations back at the sky.
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What an odd, ruminating, noisy, self-interrupting conversation we conduct with ourselves from birth to death.
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We live on the leash of our senses.
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Smell brings to mind... a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years.
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Life becomes a lot simpler for a creative person when he or she finds the routine that works best. ... get in the habit of going through the routine every day, and on some of those days, you're going to be lucky and have done some good work. ... Go to your study, close the door, invent your confidence.
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Culture is what people invent when they have lost nature.
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Human beings are sloshing sacks of chemicals on the move.
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Hurricane season brings a humbling reminder that, despite our technologies, most of nature remains unpredictable.
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