491 Quotes by Willa Cather

The wind shook the doors and windows impatiently, then swept on again, singing through the big spaces. Each gust, as it bore down, rattled the panes, and swelled off like the others. They made me think of defeated armies, retreating; or of ghosts who were trying desperately to get in for shelter, and then went moaning on.

These coppers, big and little, these brooms and clouts and brushes, were tools; and with them one made, not shoes or cabinet-work, but life itself. One made a climate within a climate; one made the days, – the complexion, the special flavour, the special happiness of each day as it passed; one made life.

It must have been the scarcity of detail in that tawny landscape that made detail so precious.

Tears flashed into her eyes. “That’s very dear of you. It’s sweet to be remembered when one is away.” In her voice there was the heart-breaking sweetness one sometimes hears in lovely, gentle old songs.

Ain’t it wonderful, Jim, how much people can mean to each other?

There are times when one’s vitality is too high to be clouded, too elastic to stay down.

I belong on a farm. I’m never lonesome here like I used to be in town. You remember what sad spells I used to have, when I didn’t know what was the matter with me? I’ve never had them out here. And I don’t mind work a bit, if I don’t have to put up with sadness.

One is best in one’s own country.

When the Cathedral bell tolled just after dark, the Mexican population of Santa Fe fell upon their knees, and all American Catholics as well. Many others who did not kneel prayed in their hearts. Eusabio and the Tesuque boys went quietly away to tell their people; and the next morning the old Archbishop lay before the high altar in the church he had built.