It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.
Lucy Maud MontgomeryBlessings be the inventor of the alphabet, pen and printing press! Life would be -- to me in all events -- a terrible thing without books.
Lucy Maud MontgomeryDon't you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down your back?
Lucy Maud MontgomeryI've had a splendid time," she concluded happily, "and I feel that it marks an epoch in my life. But the best of it all was the coming home.
Lucy Maud Montgomery