…determined to enjoy her luxury of grief uncomforted.

The gods, so says the old superstition, do not like to behold too happy mortals. It is certain, at least, that some human beings do not.

You must pay the penalty of growing-up, Paul. You must leave fairyland behind you.

I’m so glad you’re here, Anne,’ said Miss Lavendar, nibbling at her candy. ‘If you weren’t I should be blue…very blue…almost navy blue. Dreams and make-believes are all very well in the daytime and the...

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

It’s delightful when your imaginations come true, isn’t it?

Don’t you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down your back?

The eastern sky above the firs was flushed faintly pink from the reflection of the west, and Anne was wondering dreamily if the spirit of color looked like that…

Do you know, Mrs. Allan, I’m thankful for friendship. It beautifies life so much.” “True friendship is a very helpful thing indeed,” said Mrs. Allan, “and we should have a very high ideal of it...

…there was something about her that made you feel it was safe to tell her secrets.

We are never half so interesting when we have learned that language is given us to enable us to conceal our thoughts.

I suppose that’s how it looks in prose. But it’s very different if you look at it through poetry…and I think it’s nicer…’ Anne recovered herself and her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed… ‘to...

I guess you’ve got a spice of temper,” commented Mr. Harrison, surveying the flushed cheeks and indignant eyes opposite him. “It goes with hair like yours, I reckon

…And every day in heaven will be more beautiful than the one before it Davy,” assured Anne.

Anne looked at the white young mother with a certain awe that had never entered into her feelings for Diana before. Could this pale woman with the rapture in her eyes be the little black-curled,...

We always hate people who surprise our secrets…

But you have such dimples,” said Anne, smiling affectionately into the pretty, vivacious face so near her own. “Lovely dimples, like little dents in cream. I have given up all hope of dimples. My dimple-dream...

Isn’t it queer that the things we writhe over at night are seldom wicked things? Just humiliating ones.

People who are different from other people are always called peculiar,’ said Anne.

…and he wasn’t reconciled to dying. Dora told him he was going to a better world. “Mebbe, mebbe,” says poor Ben, “but I’m sorter used to the imperfections of this one.

Why should one hate you when you were so small? Could you be worth hating?

…I’m so thankful for friendship. It beautifies life so much.

That doesn’t sound very attractive,” laughed Anne. “I like people to have a little nonsense about them.

It takes all sorts of people to make a world, as I’ve often heard, but I think there are some who could be spared,’ Anne told her reflection in the east gable mirror that night.

She suddenly found herself laughing without bitterness.

…hate’s got to be a disease with me.

Kindred spirits alone do not change with the changing years.

It’s the worst kind of cruelty — the thoughtless kind. You can’t cope with it.

I can’t understand how she could have wanted to live back here, away from everything,” said Jane. “Oh, I can easily understand that,” said Anne thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t want it myself for a steady thing...

Some are born old maids, some achieve old maidenhood, and some have old maidenhood thrust upon them ,” parodied Miss Lavendar whimsically.

Look, do you see that poem?’ she said suddenly, pointing.

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...

I’m really a very happy, contented little person in spite of my broken heart.

I’m afraid of those cows,’ protested poor Dora, seeing a prospect of escape.’The very idea of your being scared of those cows,’ scoffed Davy. ‘Why, they’re both younger than you.

The dark hills, with the darker spruces marching over them, looked grim on early falling nights, but Ingleside bloomed with firelight and laughter, though the winds come in from the Atlantic singing of mournful things....

…I’m sorry, and a little dissatisfied as well. Miss Stacy told me long ago that by the time I was twenty my character would be formed, for good or evil. I don’t feel that it’s...

Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. We have to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful…

The Woman had told her that Tomorrow never comes, but Elizabeth knows better. It will come sometime. Some beautiful morning she will just wake up and find it is Tomorrow. Not Today but Tomorrow. And...

Anybody is liable to rheumatism in her legs, Anne. It’s only old people who should have rheumatism in their souls, though. Thanks goodness, I never have. When you get rheumatism in your soul you might...

I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,’ said Priscilla.’Then your soul is a golden narcissus,’ said Anne, ‘and Diana’s is like a red, red rose. Jane’s is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome...

Heaven must be very beautiful, of course, the Bible says so — but, Anne, it won’t be what I’ve been used to.

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....

Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.

Words aren’t made — they grow,’ said Anne.

I think it is because I have a habit, when I am bored or disgusted with people of stepping suddenly into my own world and shutting the door. People resent this — I suppose it...

…but youth yearned to youth.

She had dreamed some brilliant dreams during the past winter and now they lay in the dust around her. In her present mood of self-disgust, she could not immediately begin dreaming again. And she discovered...

I don’t believe Old Nick can be so very ugly,’ said Aunt Jamesina reflectively. ‘He wouldn’t do so much harm if he was. I always think of him as a rather handsome gentleman.

Don’t be ridiculous, please.’The most insulting words in the world!

Oh, Marilla, I thought I was happy before. Now I know that I just dreamed a pleasant dream of happiness. This is the reality.