Isn’t it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before; like… - Willa Cather

There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.

There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never been told.

But whenever my consciousness was quickened, all those early friends were quickened within it, and in some strange way they accompanied me through all my new experiences. They were so much alive in me that I scarcely stopped to wonder whether they were alive anywhere else. Or how.

When I’m in normal health, I’m a Presbyterian, but just now I feel that even the wicked get worse than they deserve.

I wanted to walk straight on through the red grass and over the edge of the world, which could not be very far away. The light and air abot me told me that the world ended here: only the ground and sun and sky were left, and if one went a little farther there would only be sun and sky, and one would float off into them, like the tawny hawks which sailed over our heads making slow shadows on the grass.