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#willa cather
deviika · 1 year
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Willa Cather // Franz Kafka
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rosepompadour · 2 months
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She wanted flowers and music and enchantment and love,—
Willa Cather, Lucy Gayheart (1935)
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petaltexturedskies · 18 days
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Willa Cather, from "Dedicatory" in The Complete Works of Willa Cather
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derangedrhythms · 1 year
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The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own.
Willa Cather, from ‘The Professor's House’
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gayiconwaluigi · 4 months
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The thing that caught me after watching Saltburn a second time is when we see Oliver’s father. It all falls into place. Oliver has his father’s eyes, his father’s glasses, his father’s clothes. He sees his future staring back at him when he sees his dad, and it’s rubbed in his face when Farleigh tells him this is all a dream he’ll tell to his fat children someday. Oliver can see how his entire life will go and he can’t take it. Reminds me a little bit of the short story Paul’s Case by Willa Cather.
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embeccy · 2 months
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"She wanted flowers and music and enchantment and love..."
- Willa Cather
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Fourteen inches of fresh powder fell today in the Santa Fe Mountains... it looks like the Santa Fe ski season is being extended to mid-April. :: [h/t Robert Horton]
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In New Mexico he always awoke a young man… Beautiful surroundings, the society of learned men, the charm of noble women, the graces of art, could not make up to him for the loss of those light-hearted mornings of the desert, for that wind that made one a boy again. He had noticed that this peculiar quality in the air of new countries vanished after they were tamed by man and made to bear harvests… That air would disappear from the whole earth in time, perhaps; but long after his day. He did not know just when it had become so necessary to him, but he had come back to die in exile for the sake of it. Something soft and wild and free, something that whispered to the ear on the pillow, lightened the heart, softly, softly picked the lock, slid the bolts, and released the prisoned spirit of man into the wind, into the blue and gold, into the morning, into the morning! —Willa Cather, Death Comes for the Archbishop, bk ix, ch iii (1927)
[Thanks to Scott Horton]
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bookthroneking · 8 months
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a decent-sized book haul this month. I didn't quite mean to buy so many books, but I discovered a new favorite book store and the local secondhand bookshop just had a few new arrivals, so the temptations were too great to resist.
Jane Austen: Emma
Kenneth Grahame: The Wind in the Willows
Willa Cather: Alexander's Bridge
Mary Shelley: Frankenstein
Julia Armfield: Our Wives Under the Sea
Ocean Vuong: On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous
really excited to dive into all of these; I was super tempted by a gorgeous hardcover of Ice by Anna Kavan and by Tender Is the Flesh too, but I'm trying to rein myself in. maybe next month!
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britneyshakespeare · 3 months
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My Ántonia by Willa Cather, chapter XI
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"Paul's Case" is available to read here
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othellho · 8 months
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— "The Star Dial", Willa Cather
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I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. 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.
Willa Cather, My Antonia
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rosepompadour · 2 months
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If there were no girls like her in the world, there would be no poetry.
Willa Cather, My Antonia (1918)
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petaltexturedskies · 2 months
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Willa Cather, from My Antonia
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poligraf · 1 year
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Every artist makes himself born. It is very much harder than the other time, and longer.
Willa Cather
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prairie-daughter · 2 years
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“As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of winestains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running.”
Willa Cather, My Antonia
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