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The revolt against individualism naturally calls artists severely to account, because the artist is of all men the most individual those who were not have been long forgotten.

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
Naturally
Accounts
Forgotten
Artists
Severely
Individual
Revolt
Artist
Individualism
Long
Account
Men
Calls

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Loyal? As loyal as anyone who plays second fiddle ever is.
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Religion is different from everything else because in religion seeking is finding.
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I have sometimes thought that his bursts of imaginative talk were fatal to his poetic gift. He squandered too much in the heat of personal communication.
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Nearly all the Escapists in the long past have managed their own budget and their social relations so unsuccessfully that I wouldn't want them for my landlords, or my bankers, or my neighbors. They were valuable, like powerful stimulants, only when they were left out of the social and industrial routine.
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It takes a great deal of experience to become natural.
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In a few hours one could cover that incalculable distance from the winter country and homely neighbours, to the city where the air trembled like a tuning-fork with unimaginable possibilities.
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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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An artist's saddest secrets are those that have to do with his artistry.
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Let people go on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we think best.
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Thea was still under the belief that public opinion could be placated that if you clucked often enough, the hens would mistake you for one of themselves.
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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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Beautiful women, whose beauty meant more than it said... was their brilliancy always fed by something coarse and concealed? Was that their secret?
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I've seen it before. There are women who spread ruin through no fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too ful of life and love. They can't help it. Poeple come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter.
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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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To fulfil the dreams of one's youth that is the best that can happen to a man. No worldly success can take the place of that.
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A burnt dog dreads the fire.
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[Mark Twain] is still the rough, awkward, good-natured boy who swore at the deck hands when he was three years old. Thoroughly likeable as a good fellow, but impossible as a man of letters.
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If there were no girls like them in the world, there would be no poetry
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Give the people a new word and they think they have a new fact.
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The emptiness was intense, like the stillness in a great factory when the machinery stops running.
Willa Cather