...the sorrows God sent us brought comfort and strength with them, while the sorrows we brought on ourselves, through folly or wickedness, were by far the hardest to bear.

I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.

I don't like green Christmases. They're not green—they're just nasty faded browns and grays.

Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare... Perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways.

Their happiness was in each others keeping, and both were unafraid.

When I think something nice is going to happen I seem to fly right up on the wings of anticipation; and then the first thing I realize I drop down to earth with a thud. But really, Marilla, the flying part is glorious as long as it lasts. . . it's like soaring through a sunset. I think it almost pays for the thud.

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