A man long accustomed to admire his wife in general, seldom pauses to admire her in a particular gown or attitude, unless… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
The revolt against individualism naturally calls artists severely to account, because the artist is of all men the most individual; those who… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
Nearly all the Escapists in the long past have managed their own budget and their social relations so unsuccessfully that I wouldn't… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
So long as a novelist works selfishly for the pleasure of creating character and situation corresponding to his own illusions, ideals and… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
The only thing very noticeable about Nebraska was that it was still, all day long, Nebraska. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
It has long been a tradition among novel writers that a book must end by everybody getting just what they wanted, or… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
Merely having seen the season change in a country gave one the sense of having been there for a long time. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
If you love the good thing vitally, enough to give up for it all that one must give up, then you must… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen. — 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
