I've seen it before. There are women who spread ruin through no fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too ful… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself. — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself. When the… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“After that hard winter, one could not get enough of the nimble air. Every morning I wakened with a fresh consciousness that… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
“While the train flashed through never-ending miles of ripe wheat, by country towns and bright-flowered pastures and oak groves wilting in the… — Willa Cather Copy Share Image
In a few hours one could cover that incalculable distance; from the winter country and homely neighbours, to the city where the… — 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
