People who are different from other people are always called peculiar,' said Anne.

Rilla was fond of italics, as most girls of fifteen are.

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.

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

As she walked along she dramatized the night. There was about it a wild, lawless charm that appealed to a certain wild, lawless strain hidden deep in Emily’s nature—the strain of the gypsy and the poet, the genius and the fool.

She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.

People who haven’t red hair don’t know what trouble is.