No hay espacio para la imaginación en la geometría.
They can laugh when things go wrong. I like that. Anyone can laugh when it's all smooth sailing.
Since ever the world was spinningAnd till the world shall endYou've your man in the beginningOr you have him in the end,But to have him from start to finishAnd neither nor borrow nor lendIs what all o...
The world looks like something God had just imaged for his own pleasure, doesn't it?
Oh, oh, it's not meself that do be knowing what the girls of today are coming to. Trying to make thimselves into min and not succading very well at that.
The day never goes by for men and nations to make asses of themselves and take to the fists.
CHAPTER XIV. FORBIDDEN FRUIT
That doesn't sound very attractive, laughed Anne. I like people to have a little nonsense about them.
…there was something about her that made you feel it was safe to tell her secrets.
The Blue Chest of Rachel Ward was another ower-true tale. Rachel Ward was Eliza Montgomery, a cousin of my father's, who died in Toronto a few years ago. The blue chest was in the kitchen of Uncle Joh...
Good night, belovedest. Your sleep will be sweet if there is any influences in the wishes of your own.
Its wonderful to have ambition.
Why must people kneel down to pray? If I really wanted to pray I’ll tell you what I'd do. I'd go out into a great big field all alone or in the deep, deep woods and I'd look up into the sky—up—up—up—i...
I have got acquainted with Lofty John. Ilse is a great friend of his and often goes there to watch him working in his carpenter shop. He says he has made enough ladders to get to heaven without the pr...
It's the worst kind of cruelty — the thoughtless kind. You can't cope with it.
One can't stay sad for long in such an interesting world, can one?
Yet he was a rather nice-looking young man, with crinkly russet eyes and crinkly red-brown hair, not to mention a chin that gave the world assurance of a chin.
Of course it's better to be good. I know it ism but it's sometimes so hard to believe a thing even when you know it.
Up over a wooded hill beyond, where perpetual twilight reigned under the straight, thick-growing firs and spruces; the only flowers there were myriads of delicate June bells, those shyest and sweetest...
Despair is a free man—hope is a slave.
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