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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

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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
Sun
Cold
Light
Truth
Like
Beautify
Sunset
Pale
Winter

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Your vivid, exciting companionship in the office must not be your audience, you must find your own quiet center of life, and write from that to the world.
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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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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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I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.
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When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes of the spirit are open.
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Only the stupid and the phlegmatic should teach.
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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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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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From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into the future, and the grains from the other lay still in the earth and rotted and nobody knew why.
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This is reality, whether you like it or not--all those frivolities of summer, the light and shadow, the living mask of green that trembled over everything, they were lies, and this is what was underneath. This is the truth.
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The soul cannot be humbled by fasts and prayer it must be broken by mortal sin to experience forgiveness of sin and rise to a state of grace. Otherwise, religion is nothing but dead logic.
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Today I stood taller from walking among the trees.
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If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between that earth and that sky i felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my prayers that night: here, i felt what would be would be.
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A watch is the most essential part of a lecture.
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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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Love itself draws on a woman nearly all the bad luck in the world
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Late one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the head of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man of taste who does not very often get to Boston.
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Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness.
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The end is nothing the road is all.
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Wherever humanity has made that hardest of all starts and lifted itself out of mere brutality is a sacred spot.
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