There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before. – Willa Cather
What was any art but a mold in which to imprison for a moment the shining elusive element which is life itself — life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose. – Willa Cather
The sun was like a great visiting presence that stimulated and took its due from all animal energy. When it flung wide its cloak and stepped down over the edge of the fields at evening, it left behind it a spent and exhausted world. – Willa Cather
All the intelligence and talent in the world cant make a singer. The voice is a wild thing. It cant be bred in captivity. It is a sport, like the silver fox. It happens. – Willa Cather