Gossip, as usual, was one-third right and two-thirds wrong.

Everything is new in the spring. Springs themselves are always so new, too. No spring is ever just like any other spring. It always has something of its own to be its own peculiar sweetness.

It seems to me a most dreadful thing to go out of the world and not leave one person behind you who is sorry you are gone,' said Anne, shuddering.

The trouble with you people is that you don't laugh enough.

In daylight I belong to the world . . . in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I'm free from both and belong only to myself . . . and you

We don't know where we're going, but isn't is fun to go?

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