Do you know what I think Mayflowers are, Marilla? I think they must be the souls of the flowers that died last summer, and this is their heaven.

Look, do you see that poem?' she said suddenly, pointing.

An old house with its windows gone always makes me think of something dead with its eyes picked out.

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

Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. We have to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful.

one reason why I like writing poetry - you can say so many things in it that are true in poetry but wouldn't be true in prose.

Listen to the trees talking in their sleep,' she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. 'What nice dreams they must have!