I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage.

There be three gentle and goodlie things, To be here, To be together, And to think well of one another.

Oh, but there's such a difference between saying a thing yourself and hearing other people say it,' wailed Anne. 'You may know a thing is so, but you can't help hoping other people don't quite think it is.

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

…determined to enjoy her luxury of grief uncomforted.

There is such a place as fairyland - but only children can find the way to it...until they have grown so old that they forget the way. Only a few, who remain children at heart, can ever find that fair, lost path again...The world calls them singers and poets and artists and story-tellers; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland.

It's not what the world holds for you. It's what you bring to it.