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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

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Willa Cather
Age: 73 †
Born: 1873
Born: December 7
Died: 1947
Died: April 24
Author
Biographer
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Willa Sibert Cather
Running
Shining
Away
Elements
Moments
Sweet
Art
Lose
Imprison
Past
Loses
Hurrying
Life
Stop
Mould
Moment
Elusive
Strong
Element

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One cannot divine nor forecast the conditions that will make happiness one only stumbles upon them by chance, in a lucky hour, at the world's end somewhere, and hold fast to the days.
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If youth did not matter so much to itself, it would never have the heart to go on.
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There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.
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More than him has done that, said Antonia sadly, and the girls murmured assent.
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The soul cannot be humbled by fasts and prayer it must be broken by mortal sin to experience forgiveness of sin and rise to a state of grace. Otherwise, religion is nothing but dead logic.
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You must not begin to fret about the successes of cheap people. After all, what have they to do with you?
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It is cremated youth. It is all yours--no one gave it to you.
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It is easy to pity when once one's vanity has been tickled.
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Sometimes, I ventured, it doesn't occur to boys that their mother was ever young and pretty. . . I couldn't stand it if you boys were inconsiderate, or thought of her as if she were just somebody who looked after you. You see I was very much in love with your mother once, and I know there's nobody like her.
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The great fact was the land itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little beginnings of human society that struggled in its sombre wastes.
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Some things are best learned in calm, others in storm.
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All Southern women wished of their menfolk was simply to be 'like Paris handsome and like Hector brave'.
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New things are always ugly.
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An artist's saddest secrets are those that have to do with his artistry.
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One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away.
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Only a Woman, divine, could know all that a woman can suffer.
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It's all very well to tell us to forgive our enemies our enemies can never hurt us very much. But oh, what about forgiving our friends?
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If you don't keep and guard and mature your force, and above all, have time and quiet to perfect your work, you will be writing things not much better than you did five years ago.
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The world is always full of brilliant youth which fades into grey and embittered middle age: the first flowering takes everything. The great men are those who have developed slowly, or who have been able to survive the glamour of their early florescence and to go on learning from life.
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Late one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the head of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man of taste who does not very often get to Boston.
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