The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
This is reality, whether you like it or not--all those frivolities of summer, the light and shadow, the living mask of green… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
From two ears that had grown side by side, the grains of one shot up joyfully into the light, projecting themselves into… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
In New Mexico, he always awoke a young man, not until he arose and began to shave did he realize that he… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the grass about him all the small creatures of day… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
I wanted to walk straight on through the red grass and over the edge of the world, which could not be very… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
There was only - spring itself, the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere; in the sky,… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
Of all the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
Success is less interesting than struggle. There is great pleasure in the effort. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“I only knew the schoolbooks said he "died in the wilderness, of a broken heart." "More than him has done that," said Antonia sadly,… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“Have the last word ma'm," he said cheerfully. "It's a lady's privilege.” — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
"More than him has done that," said Antonia sadly, and the girls murmured assent. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
Nothing mattered ... but writing books, and living the kind of life that made it possible to write them. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“Money and office and success are the consolations of impotence. Fortune turns kind to such solid people and lets them suck their bone in… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
But she still had that something which fires the imagination, could still stop one's breath for a moment by a look or gesture that… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“You remember how homesick I used to get, and what long talks we used to have coming from school? We've someway always felt alike… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“He placed this book in my grandmother's hands, looked at her entreatingly, and said, with an earnestness which I shall never forget, "Te-e-ach, te-e-ach… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
The sincerity of feeling that is possible between a writer and a reader is one of the finest things I know. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
