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Quotation by Willa Cather
What was any art but an effort to make a sheath, 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 Cather (1873–1947), U.S. novelist. Thea Kronborg, in The Song of the Lark, part IV, ch. III (1915).
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