Red hair is my life long sorrow.
Look, do you see that poem?' she said suddenly, pointing.
You'll never write anything that really satisfies you though it may satisfy other people.
I do know my own mind,' protested Anne. 'The trouble is, my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again.
Their happiness was in each others keeping, and both were unafraid.
...a little "appreciation" sometimes does quite as much good as all the conscientious "bringing up" in the world.