The beauty of winter is that it makes you appreciate spring.

Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by happiness that is not your own.

Whenever you looked forward to anything pleasant you were sure to be more or less disappointed . . . perhaps that is true. But there is a good side to it too. The bad things don't always come up to your expectations either . . . they nearly always turn out ever so much better than you think.

As a rule, I am very careful to be shallow and conventional where depth and originality are wasted.

They keep coming up new all the time - things to perplex you, you know. You settle one question and there's another right after. There are so many things to be thought over and decided when you're beginning to grow up. It keeps me busy all the time thinking them over and deciding what's right. It's a serious thing to grow up, isn't it, Marilla?

I'm afraid to speak or move for fear that all this wonderful beauty will just vanish... like a broken silence.

Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places.