I hate to lend a book I love...it never seems quite the same when it comes back to me.

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

We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them forward into the future with us.

let's not borrow trouble. The rate of interest is too high.

I don't like green Christmases. They're not green—they're just nasty faded browns and grays.

It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.

We don't know where we're going, but isn't is fun to go?