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If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between that earth and that sky i felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my prayers that night: here, i felt what would be would be.
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
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Willa Sibert Cather
Sky
Prayer
Felt
Night
Blotted
Earth
Erased
Matter
Arrived
Never
Prayers
Would
Anywhere
More quotes by Willa Cather
She had certain thoughts which were like companions, ideas which were like older and wiser friends.
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The air and the earth interpenetrated in the warm gusts of spring the soil was full of sunlight, and the sunlight full of red dust. The air one breathed was saturated with earthy smells, and the grass under foot had a reflection of the blue sky in it.
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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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Let your fiction grow out of the land beneath your feet.
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There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.
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Old men are like that, you know. It makes them feel important to think they are in love with somebody.
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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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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.
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When people ask me if it has been a hard or easy road, I always answer with the same quotation, the end is nothing, the road is all.Willa Cather
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How terrible it was to love people when you could not really share their lives!
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Dr. Howard Archie had just come up from a game of pool with the Jewish clothier and two traveling men who happened to be staying overnight in Moonstone.
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William Tavener never heeded ominous forecasts in the domestic horizon, and he never looked for a storm until it broke.
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Too much detail is apt, like any other form of extravagance, to become slightly vulgar.
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Winter lies too long in country towns hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen.
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Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world but here the earth was the floor of the sky.
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The world is little, people are little, human life is little. There is only one big thing — desire.
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No nation has ever produced great art that has not made a high art of cookery, because art appeals primarily to the senses.
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Thirty or forty years ago, in one those grey towns along the Burlington railroad which are so much greyer to-day than they were then, there was a house well know from Omaha to Denver for its hospitality and for a certain charm of atmosphere.
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The two friends stood for a few moments on the windy street corner, not speaking a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand and admit their perplexity in silence. (O Pioneers!)
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If youth did not matter so much to itself, it would never have the heart to go on.
Willa Cather