Yes, it's beautiful,' said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne's uplifted face, 'but wouldn't it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been no separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.

Which would you rather be if you had the choice--divinely beautiful or dazzlingly clever or angelically good?

Behind them in the garden the little stone house brooded among the shadows. It was lonely but not forsaken. It had not yet done with dreams and laughter and the joy of life; there were to be future summers for the little stone house; meanwhile, it could wait. And over the river in purple durance the echoes bided their time.

It is when my umbrella turns inside out that I am convinced of the total depravity of inanimate things.

We are never half so interesting when we have learned that language is given us to enable us to conceal our thoughts.

Why, I've never even had a quarrel with any one. I haven't an enemy. What a spineless thing I must be not to have even one enemy!