She had a way of embroidering life with stars.

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.

Most of the trouble in life comes from misunderstanding, I think,' said Anne.

There are so many unpleasant things in the world already that there is no use in imagining any more.

Diana: "I wish I were rich, and I could spend the whole summer at a hotel, eating ice cream and chicken salad." Anne: "You know something, Diana? We are rich. We have sixteen years to our credit, and we both have wonderful imaginations. We should be as happy as queens." [gestures to the setting sun] Anne Shirley: "Look at that. You couldn't enjoy its loveliness more if you had ropes of diamonds.

It seems to me a most dreadful thing to go out of the world and not leave one person behind you who is sorry you are gone,' said Anne, shuddering.

Outgrowing things we love is never a pleasant process.