Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into oneโs life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to oneโs side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.
Lucy Maud MontgomeryI love to smell flowers in the dark," she said. "You get hold of their soul then.
Lucy Maud MontgomeryLife owes me something more than it has paid me and I'm going out to collect it.
Lucy Maud Montgomery