The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out.

Annie Dillard


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Love so sprang at her, she honestly thought no one had ever looked into it. Where was it in literature? Someone would have written something. She must not have recognized it. Time to read everything again.

Annie Dillard

Stichwörter: reading love



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When, over the following months, Minta Randall found that Eustace apparently reciprocated her profoundest and most secret feelings, she thought she had never lived before, or knew what life could hold, or what absolute power one heart could exert upon another. She perceived no trace, fossil, or echo of this wild sensation anywhere around her, and concluded that she and Eustace had invented it together, which would be, she thought, just like them.

Annie Dillard


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How loose he seemed to himself, under the stars! The spaces between the stars were pores, out of which human meaning evaporated.

Annie Dillard


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Were the earth smooth, our brains would be smooth as well; we would wake, blink, walk two steps to get the whole picture, and lapse into a dreamless sleep.

Annie Dillard

Stichwörter: nature



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In nature, improbabilities are the one stock in trade. The whole creation is one lunatic fringe. If creation had been left up to me, I'm sure I wouldn't have had the imagination or courage to do more than shape a single, reasonably sized atom, smooth as a snowball, and let it go at that.

Annie Dillard

Stichwörter: nature creation



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So live. I'll be the nun for you. I am now.

Annie Dillard

Stichwörter: philosophy metaphysics



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Flung is too harsh a word for the rush of the world. Blown is more like it, but blown by a generous, unending breath.

Annie Dillard


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Nature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block. The Chiense say that we live in the world of ten thousand things. Each of the ten thousand things cries out to us precisely nothing.

Annie Dillard

Stichwörter: life nature listening



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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.

Annie Dillard

Stichwörter: life nature burning beliefs damage



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