You never know what peace is until you walk on the shores or in the fields or along the winding red roads of Prince Edward Island in a summer twilight when the dew is falling and the old stars are peeping out and the sea keeps its mighty tryst with the little land it loves. You find your soul then. You realize that youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.

She will love deeply--suffer terribly--she will have glorious moments to compensate.

Nobody with any real sense of humor *can* write a love story. . . . Shakespeare is the exception that proves the rule. (90-91)

I wonder why people so commonly suppose that if two individuals are both writers they must therefore be hugely congenial," said Anne, rather scornfully. "Nobody would expect two blacksmiths to be violently attracted toward each other merely because they were both blacksmiths.

I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.

I'm afraid to speak or move for fear that all this wonderful beauty will just vanish... like a broken silence.

Kindred spirits alone do not change with the changing years.