Of unquenchable sparkle and dream as ever. Behind her, in the hammock, Rilla Blythe was curled up, a fat, roly-poly little creature of
Of a cross-marked grave somewhere in France. But tonight it was only a shadow … nothing more.
Him. Oh, I wish we had the old days back again, exclaimed Jem. I'd love to be a soldier—a great, triumphant general. I'd give EVERYTHING to see a big battle. Well, Jem was to be a soldier and see a gr...
From Europe. They had been away for three months, having left in February to attend a famous medical congress in London; and certain things, which
At last tears were all wept out and the little patient ache that was to be in her heart until she died took their place.
Well, that is all the notes and there is not much else in the paper of any importance. I never take much interest in foreign parts. Who's this Archduke man who has been murdered?What does it matter to...
Well, it was awful said, said Felicity, wiping her eyes. But it was long ago and we can't do any good by crying over it now. Let us go and get something to eat. I made some nice little rhubarb tarts t...
Well, anyway, when I am grown up, said Anne decidedly, I’m always going to talk to little girls as if they were too, and I’ll never laugh when they use big words. I know from sorrowful experience how...
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 ot...
We both belong to the race that knows Joseph, as Cornelia Bryant would say. The race that knows Joseph? puzzled Anne. Yes. Cornelia divides all the folks in the world into two kinds — the race that kn...
Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that Romance would come her way yet—never, until this wet, horrible morning, when she wakened to the fact that she w...
Tommy and Adam Cowan, over at Markdale, are twins; and they're both cross-eyed. So I s'posed that was what being twins meant.
To think that this is my twentieth birthday, and that I've left my teens behind me forever, said Anne, who was curled up on the hearth-rug with Rusty in her lap, to Aunt Jamesina who was reading in he...
There’s no men like that nowadays. This is a degenerate age, Miss Shirley. Homer said the same thing eight hundred years, B.C., smiled Anne.
There were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense bearing tree, And there were forests ancient as the hills Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
There are some things that cannot be expressed in words.
Their charmed circle would be broken; and, in spite of the jollity of their little festival, there was a hint of sorrow in every gay young heart.
The year is a book, isn’t it, Marilla? Spring’s pages are written in Mayflowers and violets, summer’s in roses, autumn’s in red maple leaves, and winter in holly and evergreen.
The whitewashed walls were so painfully bare and staring that she thought they must ache over their own bareness.
The trouble is, my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again.