I heard someone say once that the years from fifteen to nineteen are the best years in a girl's life.

Reading stories is bad enough but writing them is worse.

Tears don't hurt like the ache does.

Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places.

What had seemed easy in imagination was rather hard in reality.

Don't you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down your back?

There is nothing more aggravating than a man who won't talk back - unless it is a woman who won't.