Stacey Smith

“The years seemed to stretch before her like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain—until the instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, inaccessible evening star.”
― Willa Cather, O Pioneers!

“Her mind was slow, truthful, steadfast. She had not the least spark of cleverness.”
― Willa Cather, O Pioneers!