Willa Cather

Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.

He had the gift of simple and moving expression. Because he talked so little, his words had a peculiar force; they were not worn dull from constant use.

If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between that earth and that sky I felt erased, blotted out.

Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past.

Intercourse with the world and the endeavor to satisfy his growing desires had brought out his defects