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by
Willa Cather
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July 29 - September 3, 2025
the Germans classify, but the French arrange!
As the churchmen walked up and down the promenade, watching the stars come out, their talk touched upon many matters, but they avoided politics, as men are apt to do in dangerous times.
He had persevered in this sandy track, which grew ever fainter, reasoning that it must lead somewhere.
they had not room in their minds for two ideas;
one of the first things a stranger decided upon meeting Father Joseph was that the Lord had made few uglier men.
when one thinks of it, a soup like this is not the work of one man. It is the result of a constantly refined tradition. There are nearly a thousand years of history in this soup.”
Father Vaillant sniffed. “I notice that scholars always manage to dig out something belittling,” he complained.
wiping his glasses, which were clouded by his strong feeling.
Send out to the fields for your men, Señor Lujon. A man can stop work to be married.”
He had no liking for scanty food and a bed on the rocks.
Father Vaillant’s maxim that if you said your prayers first, you would find plenty of time for other things afterward.
Bread is never too plenty in Indian households.
What about greasy fry bread?
Father Latour disliked his personality so much that he could scarcely look at him. His fat face was irritatingly stupid, and had the grey, oily look of soft cheeses. The corners of his mouth were deep folds in plumpness, like the creases in a baby’s legs, and the steel rim of his spectacles, where it crossed his nose, was embedded in soft flesh. He said not one word during supper, but ate as if he were afraid of never seeing food again. When his attention left his plate for a moment, it was fixed in the same greedy way upon the girl who served the table—and who seemed to regard him with
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When I went there everybody was my enemy, now everybody is my friend; therefore it is time to go.”
Thrift is such a rare quality among Mexicans that they find it very amusing;
Watching beside a death-bed was not a hardship for them, but a privilege,—in the case of a dying priest it was a distinction.
Among the watchers there was always the hope that the dying man might reveal something of what he alone could see; that his countenance, if not his lips, would speak, and on his features would fall some light or shadow from beyond. The “Last Words” of great men, Napoleon, Lord Byron, were still printed in gift-books, and the dying murmurs of every common man and woman were listened for and treasured by their neighbours and kinsfolk. These sayings, no matter how unimportant, were given oracular significance and pondered by those who must one day go the same road.
(The Mexicans are very fond of sparkling wines.
They are like seeds, full of germination but with no moisture.
I have almost become a Mexican! I have learned to like chili colorado and mutton fat. Their foolish ways no longer offend me, their very faults are dear to me. I am their man!”
The full moon, hidden by veils of cloud, threw a pale phosphorescent luminousness over the heavens, and the towers of the church stood up black against this silvery fleece.
Navajo hospitality is not intrusive.
Pike’s Peak.
He was like that even as a boy; gracious to everyone, but known to a very few.
It was a part of the Wild West attitude to despise the decencies of life.
To fulfil the dreams of one’s youth; that is the best that can happen to a man. No worldly success can take the place of that.”
“Since your brother was called to his reward,” he wrote, “I feel nearer to him than before. For many years Duty separated us, but death has brought us together. The time is not far distant when I shall join him. Meanwhile, I am enjoying to the full that period of reflection which is the happiest conclusion to a life of action.”
The old man smiled. “I shall not die of a cold, my son. I shall die of having lived.”
He enjoyed his dinner and his wine, and the company of cultivated men, and usually retired in good spirits.
