Willa Cather

The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own.

—Willa Cather

The end is nothing, the road is all.

—Willa Cather

Give the people a new word and they think they have a new fact.

—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

In little towns, lives roll along so close to one another; loves and hates beat about, their wings almost touching.

—Willa Cather

The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.

—Willa Cather

That is happiness: to be dissolved into something complete and great.

—Willa Cather

Men travel faster now, but I do not know if they go to better things.

—Willa Cather

No one can build his security upon the nobleness of another person.

—Willa Cather

He had the uneasy manner of a man who is not among his own kind, and who has not seen enough of the world to feel that all people are in some sense his own kind.

—Willa Cather

I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.

—Willa Cather

Security is a kind of death.

—Willa Cather

Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.

—Willa Cather

Personal hatred and family affection are not incompatible; they often flourish and grow strong together.

—Willa Cather