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

It's the worst kind of cruelty — the thoughtless kind. You can't cope with it.

Heretics are wicked, but they're mighty int'resting. It's jest that they've got sorter lost looking for God, being under the impression that He's hard to find - which He ain't never.

Oh Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them," exclaimed Anne.

it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry-tree all white with bloom in the moonshine

Fear is a confession of weakness. What you fear is stronger than you, or you think it is, else you wouldn't be afraid of it.

It is never quite safe to think we have done with life. When we imagine we have finished our story fate has a trick of turning the page and showing us yet another chapter.