Write about winter in the summer.
ANNIE DILLARDWrite about winter in the summer.
ANNIE DILLARDNature’s silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block.
ANNIE DILLARDBooks swept me away, this way and that, one after the other; I made endless vows according to their lights for I believed them.
ANNIE DILLARDThe real and proper question is: why is it beautiful
ANNIE DILLARDAdverbs are a sign that you’ve used the wrong verb.
ANNIE DILLARDThe dedicated life is worth living. You must give with your whole heart.
ANNIE DILLARDYou do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it.
ANNIE DILLARDNo one escapes the wilderness on the way to the promised land.
ANNIE DILLARDHow we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days.
ANNIE DILLARDIt was less like seeing than like being for the first time seen, knocked breathless by a powerful glance.
ANNIE DILLARDWe have not yet encountered any god who is as merciful as a man who flicks a beetle over on its feet.
ANNIE DILLARDPeople love pretty much the same things best. A writer looking for subjects inquires not after what he loves best, but after what he alone loves at all.
ANNIE DILLARDAt a certain point, you say to the woods, to the sea, to the mountains, the world, Now I am ready. Now I will stop and be wholly attentive. You empty yourself and wait, listening.
ANNIE DILLARDSpend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.
ANNIE DILLARDYou can’t test courage cautiously.
ANNIE DILLARDOne of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time – give it, give it all, give it now.
ANNIE DILLARD