And we the people are so vulnerable. our bodies are shot with mortality. Our legs are fear and our arms are time. These chill humors seep through our capillaries, weighting each cell with an icy dab of nonbeing, and that dab grows and swells and sucks the cell dry. 143 more words
Tags » Annie Dillard
At a recent conference, we were sitting around on Sunday morning in the afterglow of the great weekend. Someone asked what we might do to attract more university students and young scholars to the next conference–not because we were lacking in twenty-somethings, but because they did so well at the conference. 1,439 more words
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, published by HarperCollins Publishers, copyright 1974, 290 pages.
In the spirit and words of Henry David Thoreau, Annie Dillard went to her Walden Pond, Tinker Creek, “because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” This remarkable Pulitzer Prize winning book by a 28 year old will impress and inspire. 702 more words
Annie Dillard wrote that quote about me. She might not know me, of me or even about me since we’ve never met and all. But I’m pretty certain she had me in mind when she penned those words. 302 more words