Snow in April is abominable," said Anne. "Like a slap in the face when you expect a kiss.

Truth exists, only lies have to be invented.

Do you know what I think Mayflowers are, Marilla? I think they must be the souls of the flowers that died last summer, and this is their heaven.

I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return.

Without shedding of blood there is no anything. Everything, it seems to me, has to be purchased by selfsacrifice. Our race has marked every step of its painful ascent with blood. And now torrents of it must flow again.

She had a way of embroidering life with stars.

Don't try to write anything you can't feel - it will be a failure - 'echoes nothing worth