63 ordspråk av Willa Sibert Cather
Willa Sibert Cather
The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.
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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.
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The supreme virtue in art is soul, perhaps it is the only thing which gives it the right to be.
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The universal human yearning for something permanent, enduring, without shadow of change.
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There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.
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There seemed to be nothing to see; no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills or fields. If there was a road, I could not make it out in the faint starlight. There was nothing but land: not a country at all, but the material out of which countries are made.
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To note an artist's limitations is but to define his talent.
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Trees were so rare in that country, and they had to make such a hard fight to grow, that we used to feel anxious about them, and visit them as if they were persons. It must have been the scarcity of detail in that tawny landscape that made detail so precious.
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Ugly accidents happen . . . always have and always will. But the failures are swept back into the pile and forgotten. They don`t leave any lasting scar in the world, and they don`t affect the future. The things that last are the good things. The people who forge ahead and do something, they really count.
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We all like people who do things, even if we only see their faces on a cigar-box lid.
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What was any art but a mould 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.
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Whatever is felt upon the page without being specifically named there -- that, we may say, is created.
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When kindness has left people, even for a few moments, we become afraid of them, as if their reason had left them
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Where are the loves that we have loved before When once we are alone, and shut the door?
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Where there is great love, there are always miracles.
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