Willa Cather Quotes - Page 5

Quotes about:

• There was nothing but land; not a country at all, but the material out of which countries are made.

  Willa Cather

  Country, Land, Creeks

  Willa Cather (2012). “My Ántonia”, p.15, Courier Corporation

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• Your vivid, exciting companionship in the office must not be your audience, you must find your own quiet center of life, and write from that to the world.

  Willa Cather

  Writing, Office, World

  Willa Cather (1970). “Collected Short Fiction, 1892-1912”, p.24, U of Nebraska Press

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• Wherever humanity has made that hardest of all starts and lifted itself out of mere brutality is a sacred spot.

  Willa Cather

  Humanity, Brutality, Sacred

  Willa Cather (2002). “The Professor's House”, p.220, U of Nebraska Press

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• youth, when it is hurt, likes to feel itself betrayed.

  Willa Cather

  Hurt, Betrayed, Likes

  Willa Cather (1937). “The Novels and Stories of Willa Cather ...”

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• Too much information is rather deadening.

  Willa Cather

  Too Much Information, Information, Too Much

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• Our tree became the talking tree of the fairy tale; legends and stories nestled like birds in its branches.

  Willa Cather

  Talking, Bird, Tree

  Willa Cather (2016). “My çntonia”, p.53, Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.

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• He domesticated and developed the native wild flowers. He had one hill-side solidly clad with that low-growing purple verbena which mats over the hills of New Mexico. It was like a great violet velvet mantle thrown down in the sun; all the shades that the dyers and weavers of Italy and France strove for through centuries, the violet that is full of rose colour and is yet not lavender; the blue that becomes almost pink and then retreats again into sea-dark purple—the true Episcopal colour and countless variations of it.

  Willa Cather

  Flower, Dark, Sea

  Willa Cather (1999). “Death Comes for the Archbishop”, p.279, U of Nebraska Press

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• I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off.

  Willa Cather

  Thinking, Tree, Way

  O Pioneers! pt. 2, ch. 8 (1913)

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• 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.

  Willa Cather

  Animal, Energy, World

  Willa Cather (2013). “One of Ours”, p.116, Courier Corporation

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• When kindness has left people, even for a few moments, we become afraid of them, as if their reason had left them.

  Willa Cather

  Kindness, People, Philanthropy

  My Mortal Enemy pt. 1, ch. 6 (1926)

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• 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.

  Willa Cather

  Healing, Eye, Voice

  Willa Cather (2011). “Death Comes for the Archbishop”, p.50, Vintage

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• Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin.

  Willa Cather

  Art, Spring, Roots

  Commonweal, 17 Apr. 1936

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• 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.

  Willa Cather

  Running, Sweet, Art

  Willa Cather (2013). “The Best of Willa Cather”, p.375, Simon and Schuster

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• The great pines stand at a considerable distance from each other. Each tree grows alone, murmurs alone, thinks alone. They do notintrude upon each other. The Navajos are not much in the habit of giving or of asking help. Their language is not a communicative one, and they never attempt an interchange of personality in speech. Over their forests there is the same inexorable reserve. Each tree has its exalted power to bear.

  Willa Cather

  Distance, Thinking, Giving

  Willa Cather (2012). “The Song of the Lark”, p.189, Courier Corporation

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• Nothing mattered ... but writing books, and living the kind of life that made it possible to write them.

  Willa Cather

  Book, Writing, Kind

  Willa Cather (1954). “My Antonia”

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• A child's attitude toward everything is an artist's attitude.

  Willa Cather

  Art, Children, Attitude

  Willa Cather (2012). “The Song of the Lark”, p.294, Courier Corporation

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• Yes, and because we grow old we become more and more the stuff our forbears put into us. I can feel his savagery strengthen in me. We think we are so individual and so misunderstood when we are young; but the nature our strain of blood carries is inside there, waiting, like our skeleton.

  Willa Cather

  Thinking, Skeletons, Blood

  Willa Cather (1938). “The Novels and Stories of Willa Cather ...”

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• After all, the supreme virtue in all art is soul, perhaps it is the only thing which gives art a right to be.

  Willa Cather

  Art, Giving, Soul

  "The World and the Parish: Willa Cather's Articles and Reviews, 1893-1902".

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• Every artist makes himself born. It is very much harder than the other time, and longer.

  Willa Cather

  Artist, Artistic, Born

  Willa Cather (2012). “The Song of the Lark”, p.114, Courier Corporation

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• Today I stood taller from walking among the trees.

  Willa Cather

  Tree, Today, Walking

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• There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, holding nothing back.

  Willa Cather

  Country, Giving, Earth

  Willa Cather (2013). “The Best of Willa Cather”, p.91, Simon and Schuster

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• Look at my papa here; he's been dead all these years, and yet he is more real to me than almost anybody else. He never goes out of my life. I talk to him and consult him all the time. The older I grow, the better I know him and the more I understand him.

  Willa Cather

  Real, Years, Papa

  Willa Cather (2012). “My Ántonia”, p.168, Courier Corporation

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• The summer moon hung full in the sky. For the time being it was the great fact of the world.

  Willa Cather

  Summer, Moon, Sky

  Willa Cather (2013). “The Best of Willa Cather”, p.207, Simon and Schuster

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• How terrible it was to love people when you could not really share their lives!

  Willa Cather

  People, Share, Terrible

  Willa Cather (1993). “O Pioneers!”, p.98, Courier Corporation

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• Art is a concrete and personal and rather childish thing after all - no matter what people do to graft it into science and make it sociological and psychological; it is no good at all unless it is let alone to be itself - a game of make-believe, or re-production, very exciting and delightful to people who have an ear for it or an eye for it.

  Willa Cather

  Art, Believe, Eye

  Willa Cather (1988). “Willa Cather on Writing: Critical Studies on Writing as an Art”, p.125, U of Nebraska Press

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