A plate of apples, an open fire, and a jolly good book are a fair substitute for heaven.

All things great are wound up with all things little.

I feel as though someone's handed me the moon... and I don't exactly know what to do with it.

Nobody with any real sense of humor *can* write a love story. . . . Shakespeare is the exception that proves the rule. (90-91)

I can't cheer up — I don't want to cheer up. It's nicer to be miserable!

How sadly things had changed since she had sat there the night after coming home! Then she had been full of hope and joy and the future had looked rosy with promise. Anne felt as if she had lived years since then, but before she went to bed there was a smile on her lips and peace in her heart. She had looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend--as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.

I suppose all this sounds very crazy — all these terrible emotions always do sound foolish when we put them into our inadequate words. They are not meant to be spoken — only felt and endured.