The great fact was the land itself, which seemed to overwhelm the little beginnings of human society that struggled in its sombre wastes.

"More than him has done that," said Antonia sadly, and the girls murmured assent.

That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.

Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen.

You must not begin to fret about the successes of cheap people. After all, what have they to do with you?

In Haverford on the Platte the townspeople still talk of Lucy Gayheart.

Many people seem to think that art is a luxury to be imported and tacked on to life. Art springs out of the very stuff that life is made of. Most of our young authors start to write a story and make a few observations from nature to add local color. The results are invariably false and hollow. Art must spring out of the fullness and richness of life.