It is not,” Valency could hear her mother’s prim, dictatorial voice asserting, “it is not MAIDENLY to think about MEN.
Why should one hate you when you were so small? Could you be worth hating?
After all, it was nice to be loved than to be rich and admired and famous.
It was not, of course, a proper thing to do. But then I have never pretended, nor will ever pretend, that Emily was a proper child. Books are not written about proper children. They would be so dull nobody would read them.
Don’t believe in everything you see girls, and only half of what you hear.
There’s always a piece of unfinished work left,′ said Mrs. Lynde, with tears in her eyes. ‘But I supposed there’s always some one to finish it.
He was a cat of double personality – or else, as Susan vowed, he was possessed by the devil.
The things you wanted so much when you were a child don’t seem half so wonderful to you when you get them.
An hour ago on the sand-shore he has been looking at her as if she were the only being of any importance in the world. And now she was a nobody.
Rilla was not fond of Mary Vance. She had never forgotten the humiliating day when Mary had chased her through the village with a dried codfish.
Oh, Anne, things are so mixed-up in real life. They aren’t clear-cut and trimmed off, as they are in novels.
Captain Jim thought women were delightful creatures, who ought to have the vote, and everything else they wanted, bless their hearts; but he did not believe they could write.
The other day Nan said, ‘Nothing can ever be quite the same for any of us again.’ It made me feel rebellious. Why shouldn’t things be the same again – when everything is over and Jem and Jerry are back? We’ll all be happy and jolly again and these days will seem just like a bad dream.
Why, for mercy’s sake, did boys try to dance who didn’t know the first thing about dancing; and who had feet as big as boats?
There was another occupant of the living-room, curled up on a couch, who must not be overlooked, since he was a creature of marked individuality, and, moreover, had the distinction of being the only living thing whom Susan really hated.
She has no serious ideals at all-her sole aspiration seems to be to have a good time.
I love a book that makes me cry.
At life’s banquet of success I may not be the guest of honor, but I’ll be among those present.
Do you know what I think about the new moon, teacher? I think it is a little golden boat full of dreams. And when it tips on a cloud some of them spill out and fall into your sleep.
Life may be a vale of tears, all right, but there are some folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon.