I am simply a book drunkard.

But the worst of imagining things is that the time comes when you have to stop and that hurts.

I feel as if something has been torn suddenly out of my life and left a terrible hole. I feel as if I couldn't be I — as if I must have changed into somebody else and couldn't get used to it. It gives me a horrible lonely, dazed, helpless feeling. It's good to see you again — it seems as if you were a sort of anchor for my drifting soul.

It's good advice, but I expect it will be hard to follow; good advice is apt to be, I think.

I'm afraid to speak or move for fear that all this wonderful beauty will just vanish... like a broken silence.

...a little "appreciation" sometimes does quite as much good as all the conscientious "bringing up" in the world.

Gilbert took from his desk a little pink candy heart with a gold motto on it, “You are sweet,” and slipped it under the curve of Anne’s arm. Whereupon Anne arose, took the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, dropped it on the floor, ground it to powder beneath her heel, and resumed her position without deigning to bestow a glance on Gilbert.