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It is cremated youth. It is all yours--no one gave it to you.

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
Gave
Youth
Cremated

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The irregular and intimate quality of things made entirely by the human hand.
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She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last.
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The condition every art requires is, not so much freedom from restriction, as freedom from adulteration and from the intrusion of foreign matter.
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She had certain thoughts which were like companions, ideas which were like older and wiser friends.
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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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Every fine story must leave in the mind of the sensitive reader an intangible residuum of pleasure, a cadence, a quality of voice that is exclusively the writer's own, individual, unique.
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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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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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Henry Colbert, the miller, always breakfasted with his wife--beyond that he appeared irregularly at the family table.
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Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin.
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On the farm the weather was the great fact, and men's affairs went on underneath it, as the streams creep under the ice.
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When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes of the spirit are open.
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The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself.
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It does not matter much whom we live with in this world, but it matters a great deal whom we dream of.
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Of all the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening.
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Life began for me, when I ceased to admire and began to remember.
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Love itself draws on a woman nearly all the bad luck in the world
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I ain't got time to learn. I can work like mans now.
Willa Cather
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Personal hatred and family affection are not incompatible they often flourish and grow strong together.
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One summer evening in the year 1848, three Cardinals and a missionary were dining together in the gardens of a villa in the Sabine hills, overlooking Rome.
Willa Cather