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A burnt dog dreads the fire.

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
Dreads
Burnt
Dread
Dog
Fire

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In little towns, lives roll along so close to one another loves and hates beat about, their wings almost touching.
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After all, the supreme virtue in all art is soul, perhaps it is the only thing which gives art a right to be.
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An artist's saddest secrets are those that have to do with his artistry.
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That is happiness to be dissolved into something complete and great.
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The history of every country begins in the heart of a man or a woman.
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Claude Wheeler opened his eyes before the sun was up and vigorously shook his younger brother, who lay in the other half of the same bed.
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One may have staunch friends in one's own family, but one seldom has admirers.
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[Dawn] is always such a forgiving time. When that first cold, bright streak comes over the water, it's as if all our sins were pardoned as if the sky leaned over the earth and kissed it and gave it absolution.
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Even the wicked get worse than they deserve.
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A creative writer can do his best only with what lies within the range and character of his deepest sympathies.
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Every artist makes himself born. It is very much harder than the other time, and longer.
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Sometimes a neighbor whom we have disliked a lifetime for his arrogance and conceit lets fall a single commonplace remark that shows us another side, another man, really a man uncertain, and puzzled, and in the dark like ourselves.
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The land belongs to the future.
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Nothing mattered ... but writing books, and living the kind of life that made it possible to write them.
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The end is nothing the road is all.
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The fact that I was a girl never damaged my ambitions to be a pope or an emperor.
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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. They begin to tell you what's sensible and what's foolish, and want you to stick at home all the time. I prefer to be foolish when I feel like it, and be accountable to nobody.
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Human relationships are the tragic necessity of human life that they can never be wholly satisfactory, that every ego is half the time greedily seeking them, and half the time pulling away from them.
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Too much detail is apt, like any other form of extravagance, to become slightly vulgar.
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The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself.
Willa Cather