Quote

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.

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
Air
Grass
Earthy
Spring
Red
Breathed
Feet
Dust
Saturated
Full
Smell
Springtime
Art
Reflection
Smells
Earth
Warm
Sunlight
Sky
Foot
Blue
Soil
Gusts

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Every individual taste, every natural appetite, was bridled by caution. The people asleep in those houses, I thought, tried to live like the mice in their own kitchens to make no noise, to leave no trace, to slip over the surface of things in the dark.
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Personal hatred and family affection are not incompatible they often flourish and grow strong together.
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Ugly accidents happen . . . always have and always will. But the failures are swept back into the pile and forgotten. They don`t leave any lasting scar in the world, and they don`t affect the future. The things that last are the good things. The people who forge ahead and do something, they really count.
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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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Only the stupid and the phlegmatic should teach.
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There was only - spring itself, the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere in the sky, in the swift clouds, in the pale sunshine, and in the warm high wind - rising suddenly, sinking suddenly, impulsive ... If I had been tossed down blindfold on that red prairie, I should have known that it was spring.
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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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Men are all right for friends, but as soon as you marry them they turn into cranky old fathers, even the wild ones.
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Life was so short that it meant nothing at all unless it were continually reinforced by something that endured unless the shadows of individual existence came and went against a background that held together.
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People have to snatch at happiness when they can, in this world. It is always easier to lose than to find.
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An artist's saddest secrets are those that have to do with his artistry.
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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.
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Paris is a hard place to leave, even when it rains incessantly and one coughs continually from the dampness.
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The trouble is you almost have to marry a man before you can find out the sort of wife he needs and usually it's exactly the sort you are not.
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A man long accustomed to admire his wife in general, seldom pauses to admire her in a particular gown or attitude, unless his attention is directed to her by the appreciative gaze of another man.
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Whatever is felt upon the page without being specifically named there — that, one might say, is created.
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Freedom so often means that one isn't needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a background of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the cities there are thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all alike we have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing.
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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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In Haverford on the Platte the townspeople still talk of Lucy Gayheart.
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Success is never so interesting as struggle
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