That's a lovely idea, Diana,' said Anne enthusiastically. 'Living so that you beautify your name, even if it wasn't beautiful to begin with…making it stand in people's thoughts for something so lovely and pleasant that they never think of it by itself. Thank you, Diana.

We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them forward into the future with us.

There is nothing more aggravating than a man who won't talk back - unless it is a woman who won't.

For there is no bond more lasting than that formed by the mutual confidences of that magic time when youth is slipping from the sheath of childhood and beginning to wonder what lies for it beyond those misty hills that bound the golden road.

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

Anne "felt instinctively" that romance was peeping at her around a corner.

I don't like green Christmases. They're not green—they're just nasty faded browns and grays.