Words aren't made — they grow,' said Anne.

Oh, Marilla, I thought I was happy before. Now I know that I just dreamed a pleasant dream of happiness. This is the reality.

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

never write a line you'd be ashamed to read at your own funeral.

Nobody can keep on being angry if she looks into the heart of a pansy for a little while.

That's the worst…or the best…of real life, Anne. It won't let you be miserable. It keeps on trying to make you comfortable…and succeeding…even when you're determined to be unhappy and romantic.

It's great to be great, but it's great to be human.