Quotes by Annie Dillard

The gaps are the thing.  The gaps are the spirit's one home, the altitudes and latitudes so dazzlingly spare and clean that the spirit can discover itself like a once-blind man unbound.  The gaps are the clefts in the rock where you cower to see the back parts of God; they are fissures between mountains and cells the wind lances through, the icy narrowing fiords splitting the cliffs of mystery.  Go up into the gaps.  If you can find them; they shift and vanish too.  Stalk the gaps.  Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock--more than a maple--universe.

Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery.

Why are we reading if not in hope that the writer will magnify and dramatize our days, will illuminate and inspire us with wisdom, courage, and the possibility of meaningfulness, and will press upon our minds the deepest mysteries, so that we may feel again their majesty and power? What do we ever know that is higher than that power which, from time to time, seizes our lives, and reveals us startlingly to ourselves as creatures set down here bewildered?

On April 30, 1991 - on that one day - 138,000 people drowned in Bangladesh. At dinner I mentioned to our daughter, who was then seven years old, that it was hard to imagine 138,000 people drowning.
"No, it's easy," she said. "Lots and lots of dots, in blue water."

Nothing on Earth is more gladdening than knowing we must roll up our sleeves and move back the boundaries of the humanly possible once more

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."
~Annie Dillard~

One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time... Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.

Admire the world for never ending on you as you would admire an opponent, without taking your eyes off him, or walking away.

Is it not late?  A late time to be living?  Are not our generations the crucial ones?  For we have changed the world.  Are not our heightened times the important ones?  For we have nuclear bombs.  Are we not especially significant because our century is? - our century and its unique Holocaust, its refugee populations, its serial totalitarian exterminations; our century and its antibiotics, silicon chips, men on the moon, and spliced genes?  No, we are not and it is not.  These times of ours are ordinary times, a slice of life like any other.  Who can bear to hear this, or who will consider it?...
Take away the bomb threat and what are we?  Ordinary beads on a never-ending string.  Our time is a routine twist of an improbable yarn...
There must be something heroic about our time, something that lifts it above all those other times.  Plague?  Funny weather?  Dire things are happening...
Why are we watching the news, reading the news, keeping up with the news?  Only to enforce our fancy - probably a necessary lie - that these are crucial times, and we are in on them.  Newly revealed, and we are in the know: crazy people, bunches of them.  New diseases, shifts in power, floods!  Can the news from dynastic Egypt have been any different?

There are 1,198,500,000 people alive now in China. To get a feel for what that means, simply take yourself - in all your singularity, importance, complexity, and love - and multiply by 1,198,500,000. See? Nothing to it.