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
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.
Interpretation
The quote emphasizes the distinction between superficial appearances and the deeper truths of reality.
Willa Cather's quote speaks to the notion that the beauty and vibrancy often observed in life can mask the underlying truths that exist beneath the surface. The 'frivolities of summer' represent the distractions and illusions we encounter, suggesting that what we perceive may not reflect the deeper reality that lies underneath, prompting a reflection on how one views and interprets the world around them.
In practice
In a speech about facing harsh realities, one might say, 'As Willa Cather put it, this is reality, whether you like it or not.'
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.
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.
Only solitary men know the full joys of friendship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything.
Small rooms or dwellings discipline the mind, large ones weaken it.
When a violent minority that crosses color lines comes to believe that killing those you know or do not know is a reasonable solution to problems, we are in need of another vision.
The world's problems transcend borders.
It was Kovacs who said "Mother" then, muffled under latex. It was Kovacs who closed his eyes. It was Rorschach who opened them again.
That the speech of self-disclosure should be translatable seems to me very odd, but I am convinced that it is. The conclusion that I draw is that the only quality which all human being without exception possess is uniqueness: any characteristic, on the other hand, which one individual can be recognized as having in common with another, like red hair or the English language, implies the existence of other individual qualities which this classification excludes.
Skepticism . . . is not intellectual only it is moral also, a chronic atrophy and disease of the whole soul.
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