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Willa Cather
Willa Sibert Cather (7 December 1873 – 24 April 1947) American author
Attributed
- Art, it seems to me, should simplify finding what conventions of form and what detail one can do without and yet preserve the spirit of the whole— so that all that one has suppressed and cut away is there to the reader's consciousness as much as if it were in type on the page.
- Give the people a new word and they think they have a new fact.
- I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.
- I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived.
- Most of the basic material a writer works with is acquired before the age of fifteen.
- No one can build his security upon the nobleness of another person.
- Only solitary men know the full joys of friendship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything.
- She used to drag her mattress besider her low window and lie awake for a long while, vibrating with excitement, as a machine vibrates from speed. Life rushed in upon her through that window— or so it seemed. In reality, of course, life rushes from within, not from without. There is no work of art so big or so beautiful that is was not once all contained in some youthful body, like this one which lay on the floor in the moonlight, pulsing with ardor and anticipation.
- Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.
- Sometimes a neighbor whom we have disliked a lifetime for his arrogance and conceit lets fall a single commonplace remark that shows us another side, another man, really; a man uncertain, and puzzled, and in the dark like ourselves.
- That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.
- The condition every art requires is, not so much freedom from restriction, as freedom from adulteration and from the intrusion of foreign matter.
- The dead might as well try to speak to the living as the old to the young.
- The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own.
- The irregular and intimate quality of things made entirely by the human hand.
- The miracles of the church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always.
- Variant: Miracles seem to rest, not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from far off, but upon our perceptions being made finer so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear that which is about us always.
- The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.
- The sun was like a great visiting presence that stimulated and took its due from all animal energy. When it flung wide its cloak and stepped down over the edge of the fields at evening, it left behind it a spent and exhausted world.
- There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.
- There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.
- To note an artist's limitations is but to define his talent. A reporter can write equally well about everything that is presented to his view, but a creative writer can do his best only with what lies within the range and character of his deepest sympathies.
- What was any art but a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining elusive element which is life itself - life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.
- When kindness has left people, even for a few moments, we become afraid of them as if their reason had left them. When it has left a place where we have always found it, it is like shipwreck; we drop from security into something malevolent and bottomless.
- Where there is great love there are always miracles.
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