A Quote by Annie Dillard

I breathed the air of history all unaware, and walked oblivious through its littered layers. — © Annie Dillard
I breathed the air of history all unaware, and walked oblivious through its littered layers.
And I walked, I walked through the light air; I moved with the morning.
I breathed the air of deliverance through books, and through books I leapt over the walls of confinement.
I don't read any reviews, so I'm oblivious to what they have to say. I'm completely unaware. It's fantastic.
I once walked into a party, and I had just sprayed myself with an aura of my secret scent. I walked through to greet my friends, and as I walked, the breeze must have lifted my scent into the air. A man who had been looking quite morose at the bar, suddenly started to make his way towards me exclaiming, "What is that scent?" He was literally mesmerized!
I have to strip away all the layers when I'm writing the song. I have to cut through all these layers of years of putting up walls and putting protective layers around myself.
Everything in Louisiana is about layers. There are layers of race, layers of class, layers of survival, layers of death, and layers of rebirth. To live with these layers is to be a true Louisianian. This state has a depth that is simultaneously beyond words and yet as natural as breathing. How can a place be both other-worldly and completely pedestrian is beyond me; however, Louisiana manages to do it. Louisiana is spooky that way.
If you are working, almost like with layers of the Grand Canyon, there's history within those layers.
I live on the West Coast of the United States, and yet the air that I breathe is sometimes the same air that was being breathed in China the day before.
Poetry is this gorgeous, complex history rendered in verse and song, a blueprint that can lead you back into the world after you've walked into air.
He breathed out the bitter air that makes women doubt everything, and I breathed it in, as I had always done. I expelled my dust, the powder of everything I had destroyed with doubt, and he pulled it into his lungs.
Neither James Madison, for whom this lecture is named, nor any of the other Framers of the Constitution, were oblivious, careless, or otherwise unaware of the words they chose for the document and its Bill of Rights.
For me, a journey to Damascus is an amazing hunt from beginning to end, a slice through layers of history in search of treasure.
He breathed once more, holding the air in his chest, as if it were not air but something more--a sweet taste of freedom, of all cares lifted, everything over and done.
Americans easily forget that the air they breathe is the same as those in Europe or Africa or Asia; it's the same air as Jesus breathed. I would like them to remember that connection.
You can't escape history, or the needs and neuroses you've picked up like layers and layers of tartar on your teeth.... Your every past action and thought have made you what you are.
History is littered with dead good men
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