One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savor of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window. She had been studying her lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom.

there's no use trying to live in other people's opinions. The only thing to do is live in your own.

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

That is one good thing about this world - there are always sure to be more springs.

At seventeen dreams DO satisfy because you think the realities are waiting for you farther on.

She suddenly found herself laughing without bitterness.

She will love deeply--suffer terribly--she will have glorious moments to compensate.