Some nights are like honey - and some like wine - and some like wormwood.
Nobody whom this war has touched will ever be happy again in quite the same way. But it will be a better happiness, I think, little sister - a happiness we've earned.
Reading stories is bad enough but writing them is worse.
She seemed to walk in an atmosphere of things about to happen.
Anne "felt instinctively" that romance was peeping at her around a corner.
It's fun to be almost grown up in some ways, but it's not the kind of fun I expected, Marilla. There's so much to learn and do and think that there isn't time for big words.