It’s not what the world holds for you. It’s what you bring to it.
Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places.
Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by happiness that is not your own.
But was anything in life, Anne asked herself wearily, like one’s imagination of it?
We’ve had a beautiful friendship, Diana. We’ve never marred it by one quarrel or coolness or unkind word; and I hope it will always be so. But things can’t be quite the same after this. You’ll have other interests. I’ll just be on the outside.
Poor soul, she always knew everything about her neighbors, but she never was very well acquainted with herself.
I know I haven’t much sense or sobriety, but I’ve got what is ever so much better – the knack of making people like me.
We are never half so interesting when we have learned that language is given us to enable us to conceal our thoughts.
You must pay the penalty of growing-up, Paul. You must leave fairyland behind you.
She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.
Oh, Marilla, I thought I was happy before. Now I know that I just dreamed a pleasant dream of happiness. This is the reality.
Isn’t it terrible the way some unworthy folks are loved, while others that deserve it far more, you’d think, never get much affection?
Even when I’m alone I have real good company – dreams and imaginations and pretendings. I like to be alone now and then, just to think over things and taste them. But I love friendships – and nice, jolly little times with people.
It’s the worst kind of cruelty – the thoughtless kind. You can’t cope with it.
The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only – a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.
She suddenly found herself laughing without bitterness.
You’d find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair.
It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside – but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond – only a glimpse – and heard a note of unearthly music.
Mrs. Lynde says, ‘Blessed are they who expect nothing for they shall not be disappointed.
When I left Queen’s my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don’t know what lies around the bend, but I am going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla. I wonder how the road beyond it goes – what there is of green glory and soft, checkered light and shadows – what new landscapes – what new beauties – what curves and hills and valleys farther on.