“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, book The Song of the Lark

Part IV, Ch. 3
Sometimes paraphrased: What was any art but 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.
The Song of the Lark (1915)

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Willa Cather photo
Willa Cather99
American writer and novelist 1873–1947

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