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The emptiness was intense, like the stillness in a great factory when the machinery stops running.

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
Intense
Silence
Running
Factory
Great
Machinery
Like
Factories
Stops
Stillness
Emptiness

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Miracles surround us at every turn if we but sharpen our perceptions of them.
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Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin.
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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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I have not much faith in women in fiction.... Women are so horribly subjective and they have such scorn for the healthy commonplace. When a woman writes a story of adventure, a stout sea tale, a manly battle yarn, anything without wine, women, and love, then I will begin to hope for something great from them, not before.
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The end is nothing the road is all.
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The irregular and intimate quality of things made entirely by the human hand.
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I don't want anyone reading my writing to think about style. I just want them to be in the story.
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When we look back, the only things we cherish are those which in some way met our original want the desire which formed in us in early youth, undirected, and of its own accord.
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There is often a good deal of the child left in people who have had to grow up too soon.
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People can be lovers and enemies at the same time, you know.
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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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Some things are best learned in calm, others in storm.
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There seemed to be nothing to see no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills or fields. If there was a road, I could not make it out in the faint starlight. There was nothing but land: not a country at all, but the material out of which countries are made.
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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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I suppose there were moonless nights and dark ones with but a silver shaving and pale stars in the sky, but I remember them all as flooded with the rich indolence of a full moon.
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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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If youth did not matter so much to itself, it would never have the heart to go on.
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Art and religion (they are the same thing, in the end, of course) have given man the only happiness he has ever had.
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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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Every American travelling in England gets his own individual sport out of the toy passenger and freight trains and the tiny locomotives, with their faint, indignant, tiny whistle. Especially in western England one wonders how the business of a nation can possibly be carried on by means so insufficient.
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