When you open a book,โ the sentimental library posters said, โanything can happen.โ This was so. A book of fiction was a bomb. It was a land mine you wanted to go off. You wanted it to blow your whole day. Unfortunately, hundreds of thousands of books were duds. They had been rusting out of everyoneโs way for so long that they no longer worked. There was no way to distinguish the duds from the live mines except to throw yourself at them headlong, one by one.
Annie DillardThe answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.
Annie DillardWe live half our waking lives and all of our sleeping lives in some private, useless, and insensible waters we never mention or recall.
Annie DillardWhat do I make of all this texture? What does it mean about the kind of world in which I have been set down? The texture of the world, its filigree and scrollwork, means that there is the possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knock, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek.
Annie Dillard