The Great Fact Was The

Let Your Fiction Grow Out Of The Land Beneath Your Feet.

There Was Only - Spring Itself, The Throb Of It, The Light Restlessness, The Vital Essence Of It Everywhere; In The Sky, In The Swift Clouds, In The Pale Sunshine, And In The Warm High Wind - Rising Suddenly, Sinking Suddenly, Impulsive ... If I Had Been Tossed Down Blindfold On That Red Prairie, I Should Have Known That It Was Spring.

Oh, This Is The Joy Of The Rose; That It Blows, And Goes.

Hunger Is A Powerful Incentive To Introspection.

When People Ask Me If It Has Been A Hard Or Easy Road, I Always Answer With The Same Quotation, The End Is Nothing, The Road Is All.willa Cather