I woke at intervals until . . . the intervals of waking tipped the scales, and I was more often awake than not.
Annie DillardNature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block.
Annie DillardI woke at intervals until . . . the intervals of waking tipped the scales, and I was more often awake than not.
Annie DillardNature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block.
Annie Dillard