what was any art but an effort to make a sheath, a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element which is life itself, — life … - Willa Cather

What was any art but an effort to make a sheath, a mold in which to imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element which is life itself.

Only a Woman, divine, could know all that a woman can suffer.

She had certain thoughts which were like companions, ideas which were like older and wiser friends.

I was thinking, as I watched her, how little it mattered — about her teeth, for instance. I know so many women who have kept all the things that she had lost, but whose inner glow has faded. Whatever else was gone, Antonia had not lost the fire of life.