Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.

You have the itch for writing born in you. It's quite incurable. What are you going to do with it?

She had dreamed some brilliant dreams during the past winter and now they lay in the dust around her. In her present mood of self-disgust, she could not immediately begin dreaming again. And she discovered that, while solitude with dreams is glorious, solitude without them has few charms.

Oh, but there's such a difference between saying a thing yourself and hearing other people say it,' wailed Anne. 'You may know a thing is so, but you can't help hoping other people don't quite think it is.

Don't be ridiculous, please.' The most insulting words in the world!

I can just imagine myself sitting down at the head of the table and pouring out the tea," said Anne, shutting her eyes ecstatically. "And asking Diana if she takes sugar! I know she doesn't but of course I'll ask her just as if I didn't know.

Besides, I've been feeling a little blue — just a pale, elusive azure. It isn't serious enough for anything darker.