I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla. 'Then your soul is a golden narcissus,' said Anne, 'and Diana's is like a red, red rose. Jane's is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome and sweet.' 'And our own is a white violet, with purple streaks in its heart,' finished Priscilla.
Lucy Maud MontgomeryI know I haven't much sense or sobriety, but I've got what is ever so much better โ the knack of making people like me.
Lucy Maud Montgomery