It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.

Isn't it good just to be alive on a day like this? I pity the people who aren't born yet for missing it.

It's so easy to be wicked without knowing it, isn't it?

Look at that sea, girls--all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds.

Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!" (Anne to Gilbert)

I can't help flying up on the wings of anticipation. It's as glorious as soaring through a sunset... almost pays for the thud.

She had looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend - as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.