I wonder what a soul…a person's soul…would look like,' said Priscilla dreamily. 'Like that, I should think,' answered Anne, pointing to a radiance of sifted sunlight streaming through a birch tree. 'Only with shape and features of course. I like to fancy souls as being made of light. And some are all shot through with rosy stains and quivers…and some have a soft glitter like moonlight on the sea…and some are pale and transparent like mist at dawn.

She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.

It makes you feel very virtuous when you forgive people, doesn't it?

There are so many unpleasant things in the world already that there is no use in imagining any more.

You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair," said Anne reproachfully. "People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble is.

The ghosts of things that never happened are worse than the ghosts of things that did.

The beauty of winter is that it makes you appreciate spring.