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Willa Cather : The miracles of the church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always. # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Willa Cather quote- The miracles of the church seem to me to rest not...

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Ralph Waldo Trine : " A miracle is nothing more or less than this. Anyone who has come into a knowledge of his true identity, of his oneness with the all-pervading wisdom and power, this makes it possible for laws higher than the ordinary mind knows of to be revealed to him. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Sean O Casey : " If church prelates, past or present, had even an inkling of physiology they'd realize that what they term this inner ugliness creates and nourishes the hearing ear, the seeing eye, the active mind, and energetic body of man and woman, in the same way that dirt and dung at the roots give the plant its delicate leaves and the full-blown rose. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Socrates : " Nature has given us two ears, two eyes, and but one tongue-to the end that we should hear and see more than we speak. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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John Galsworthy : " Art is the great and universal refreshment. For Art is never dogmatic; holds no brief for itself; you may take it, or you may leave it. It does not force itself rudely where it is not wanted. It is reverent to all tempers, to all points of view. But it is wilful — the very wind in the comings and goings of its influence, an uncapturable fugitive, visiting our hearts at vagrant, sweet moments; since we often stand even before the greatest works of Art without being able quite to lose ourselves! That restful oblivion comes, we never quite know when — and it is gone! But when it comes, it is a spirit hovering with cool wings, blessing us from least to greatest, according to our powers; a spirit deathless and varied as human life itself. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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A E Housman : " The bells they sound on Bredon And still the steeples hum. "Come all to church, good people," — Oh, noisy bells, be dumb; I hear you, I will come. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Walt Whitman : " Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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John Milton : " And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced choir below, In service high, and anthems clear As may, with sweetness, through mine ear Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Marianne Williamson : " Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love. The real miracle is the love that inspires them. In this sense everything that comes from love is a miracle. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Mother Meera : " Be like a child - clear, loving, spontaneous, infinitely flexible and ready each moment to wonder and accept miracle. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Robert Anton Wilson : " Nobody sees the obvious, nobody observes the ordinary. There are more miracles in a square yard of earth than in all the fables of the Church. " # Miracles # Love # Churches

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Willa Cather Wisdom feed

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Willa Cather: " There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm." # Adversity # Learning # Age and Aging

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Willa Cather: " That is happiness: to be dissolved into something complete and great." # Happiness # Freedom # Power

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Willa Cather: " No one can build his security upon the nobleness of another person." # Independence

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Willa Cather: " The dead might as well try to speak to the living as the old to the young." # Generations # Freedom # Power

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Willa Cather: " I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do." # Resignation # Death and Dying # Life and Living

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Willa Cather: " Where there is great love there are always miracles." # Miracles

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Willa Cather: " Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again." # Memory

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Willa Cather: " Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen." # Winter # Politicians and Politics # Death and Dying

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Willa Cather: " One might say that every fine story must leave in the mind of the sensitive reader an intangible residuum of pleasure; a cadence, a quality of voice that is exclusively the writer's own, individual, unique. A quality which one can remember without the volume at hand, can experience over and over again in the mind but can never absolutely define, as one can experience in memory a melody, or the summer perfume of a garden... It is a common fallacy that a writer, if he is talented enough, can achieve this poignant quality by improving upon his subject-matter, by using his "imagination" upon it and twisting it to suit his purpose. The truth is that by such a process (which is not imaginative at all!) he can at best produce only a brilliant sham, which, like a badly built and pretentious house, looks poor and shabby after a few years. If he achieves anything noble, anything enduring, it must be by giving himself absolutely to his material. And this gift of sympathy is his great gift; is the fine thing in him that alone can make his work fine. The artist spends a lifetime in pursuing the things that haunt him, in having his mind "teased" by them, in trying to get these conceptions down on paper exactly as they are to him and not in conventional poses supposed to reveal their character; trying this method and that, as a painter tries different lightings and different attitudes with his subject to catch the one that presents it more suggestively than any other. And at the end of a lifetime he emerges with much that is more or less happy experimenting, and comparatively little that is the very flower of himself and his genius." # Writers and Writing

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Willa Cather: " On starlight nights I used to pace up and down those long, cold streets, scowling at the little, sleeping houses on either side, with their storm-windows and covered back porches. They were flimsy shelters, most of them poorly built of light wood, with spindle porch-posts horribly mutilated by the turning-lathe. Yet for all their frailness, how much jealousy and envy and unhappiness some of them managed to contain! The life that went on in them seemed to me made up of evasions and negations; shifts to save cooking, to save washing and cleaning, devices to propitiate the tongue of gossip. This guarded mode of existence was like living under a tyranny. People's speech, their voices, their very glances, became furtive and repressed. Every individual taste, every natural appetite, was bridled by caution. The people asleep in those houses, I thought, tried to live like the mice in their own kitchens; to make no noise, to leave no trace, to slip over the surface of things in the dark." # Writers and Writing

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