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

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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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Choice is a signature of our species.
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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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Wonder is the heaviest element on the periodic table. Even a tiny fleck of it stops time.
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On some summer days in New York City, the air hangs thickly visible, like the combined exhalations of eight million souls. Steam rising from vents underground makes you wonder if there isn't one giant sweat gland lodged beneath the city.
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We live on the leash of our senses.
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Humans are the most successful invasives of all time.
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We can't enchant the world, which makes its own magic but we can enchant ourselves by paying deep attention
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It's essential to tailor rehab to what impassions someone. The brain gradually learns by riveting its attention-through endless repetitions.
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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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We humans are obsessed with lights...Perhaps it is our way of hurling the constellations back at the sky.
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Symbolic of life, hair bolts from our head[s]. Like the earth, it can be harvested, but it will rise again. We can change its color and texture when the mood strikes us, but in time it will return to its original form, just as Nature will in time turn our precisely laid-out cities into a weed-way.
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The only and absolute perfect union of two is when a baby hangs suspended in its mother's womb, like a tiny madman in a padded cell, attached to her, feeling her blood and hormones, and moods play through its body, feeling her feelings.
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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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Though we marry as adults, we don't marry adults. We marry children who have grown up and still rejoice in being children, especially if we're creative.
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