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When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes of the spirit are open.

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
Shut
Flesh
Open
Eyes
Eye
Spirit

More quotes by Willa Cather

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In Haverford on the Platte the townspeople still talk of Lucy Gayheart.
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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.
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The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own.
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A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of things more than the things themselves.
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The qualities of a second-rate writer can easily be defined, but a first-rate writer can only be experienced. It is just the thing in him which escapes analysis that makes him first-rate.
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That is happiness to be dissolved into something complete and great.
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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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Loyal? As loyal as anyone who plays second fiddle ever is.
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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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The only thing very noticeable about Nebraska was that it was still, all day long, Nebraska.
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Men travel faster now, but I do not know if they go to better things.
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The voice is a wild thing. It can't be bred in captivity.
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If there were no girls like them in the world, there would be no poetry
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More than him has done that, said Antonia sadly, and the girls murmured assent.
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The air and the earth interpenetrated in the warm gusts of spring the soil was full of sunlight, and the sunlight full of red dust. The air one breathed was saturated with earthy smells, and the grass under foot had a reflection of the blue sky in it.
Willa Cather
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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.
Willa Cather
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Pittsburgh was even more vital, more creative, more hungry for culture than New York. Pittsburgh was the birthplace of my writing.
Willa Cather
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The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.
Willa Cather
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The sky was a midnight-blue, like warm, deep, blue water, and the moon seemed to lie on it like a water-lily, floating forward with an invisible current.
Willa Cather
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The two friends stood for a few moments on the windy street corner, not speaking a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand and admit their perplexity in silence. (O Pioneers!)
Willa Cather