As for Mr. Meredith, said Miss Cornelia, even his engagement has made a different man of him. He isn't half so dreamy and absent-minded, believe me. I was so relieved when I heard that he had decided...
And yet... you wouldn't want it to stop hurting... you wouldn't want to forget your little mother even if you could.
And there was always the bend in the road!
Nobody can keep on being angry if she looks into the heart of a pansy for a little while.
You will have to make up the old quarrel, Susan. It will never do to be at outs with your neighbours. Cousin Sophia began the quarrel, so she can begin the making up also, Mrs. Dr. dear, said Susan lo...
You can't have many exclamation points left,' thought Anne, 'but no doubt the supply of italics is inexhaustible.
Who is Mrs. Ford? asked Una wonderingly. Oh,
There was no mistaking her sincerity--it breathed in every tone of her voice. Both Marilla and Mrs. Lynde recognized its unmistakable ring. But the former understood in dismay that Anne was actually e...
Snow in April is abominable, said Anne. Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.
She looked like a head-on collision between a fashion plate and a nightmare.
She gives me meals that stick to my ribs. She don't forget to put salt in the porridge. She never slams doors, and when she has nothing to say, she don't talk. That's uncanny in a woman, you know, Mis...
She felt very old and mature and wise—which showed how young she was. She told herself that she longed greatly to go back to those dear merry days when life was seen through a rosy mist of hope and il...
Marilla! Anne sat down on Marilla’s gingham lap, took Marilla’s lined face between her hands, and looked gravely and tenderly into Marilla’s eyes. I’m not a bit changed—not really. I’m only just prune...
It's the fools that make all the trouble in the world, not the wicked.
It's lovely when the dark is your friend, isn't it? When you turn on the light, it makes the dark your enemy... and it glowers in at you resentfully.
It was a clear, apple-green
I have really done so few bad things that they have to keep harping on the old ones.
I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.
Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously…
Don't let a three-o'clock-at-night feeling fog your soul.