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.
Willa CatherRead
The air and the earth interpenetrated in the warm gusts of spring; the soil was full of sunlight, and the sunlight full of red dust. The air one breathed was saturated with earthy smells, and the grass under foot had a reflection of the blue sky in it.
Interpretation
This quote beautifully captures the essence of spring, portraying the interconnectedness of the air, earth, and sunlight in a vivid, sensory experience.
Willa Cather's quote evokes the vibrant and rejuvenating atmosphere of spring, illustrating how the various elements of nature—the air, earth, and sunlight—come together to create a rich tapestry of sensations. The imagery of the soil, sunlight, and scents illustrates the transformative power of the season, inviting readers to fully immerse themselves in the beauty and renewal of the natural world.
In practice
This quote could be used in a nature appreciation workshop to emphasize the beauty of spring.
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.
That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.
Our tree became the talking tree of the fairy tale; legends and stories nestled like birds in its branches.
Writing ought either to be the manufacture of stories for which there is a market demand - a business as safe and commendable as making soap or breakfast foods - or it should be an art, which is always a search for something for which there is no market demand, something new and untried, where the values are intrinsic and have nothing to do with standardized values.
This is reality, whether you like it or not--all those frivolities of summer, the light and shadow, the living mask of green that trembled over everything, they were lies, and this is what was underneath. This is the truth.
Only solitary men know the full joys of friendship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything.
Spring has again returned. _x000D_ _x000D_ The Earth is like a child that knows many poems._x000D_ _x000D_ Many, O so many. For the hardship_x000D_ _x000D_ of such long learning she receives the prize._x000D_ _x000D_ _x000D_ Strict was her teacher. _x000D_ _x000D_ The white in the old man's beard pleases us._x000D_ _x000D_ Now, what to call green, to call blue,_x000D_ _x000D_ we dare to ask: She knows, She knows!
It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.
The autumn always gets me badly, as it breaks into colours. I want to go south, where there is no autumn, where the cold doesn't crouch over one like a snow-leopard waiting to pounce.
I think the sun is a flower, That blooms for just one hour.
The mountain remains unmoved at its seeming defeat by the mist.
The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation.
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