once a man had thrust his hands into the soil and knew the grit of it between his teeth, he felt something rise within him that was not of his day or generation, but had persisted through birth and death… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
You have stirred the soil with your plow, my friend. It will never be the same again. — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
The lush green of the fields became a rich gold that swayed sturdily under the wind and fell at last before the hands of… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
Listen - man is a child of Nature. When he turns against his mother - he's done! He may not find out about it… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
There is too much doing - too little being! When we begin to get strenuous, life begins to grow intolerable. — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
There was nothing so real on the prairie as winter, nothing so memorable. — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
“Work did not destroy the loneliness; work was only a fog in which they moved so that they might not see the loneliness of… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
It's remarkable - most remarkable, the way these people manage, from time to time, a tragedy or a near-tragedy to break the even tenor… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
once a man had thrust his hands into the soil and knew the grit of it between his teeth, he felt something rise within… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
Religion is passionate, reckless, destructive, idol-smashing. It's a martyr burning at the stake. It's a crown of thorns and a cross. — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
a man can break God's laws and be forgiven. That's what they teach us. But when he breaks Nature's laws, there's no forgiveness -… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
Here and there on the branch of an oak a congress of leaves still clung, rigid as flakes of bronze. — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
You have stirred the soil with your plow, my friend. It will never be the same again. — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
