Device.
Do love the west wind. It sings of hope and gladness, doesn't it?
Don’t let’s ever be afraid of things. It’s such dreadful slavery. Let’s be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let’s dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble...
Every girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever...
Eyes, golden-brown curls and crimson cheeks. She laughed too much to please her father's congregation and had shocked old Mrs. Taylor, the disconsolate spouse of several departed husbands, by saucily...
Face. Walter reeled a little. The pain of the blow tingled through all his sensitive frame for a moment. Then he felt pain no longer. Something, such as he had never experienced before, seemed to
Fainted,
Feel that she possesses a rich nature, into which a friend might enter as into a kingdom; but for some reason she bars every one out and shuts all her possibilities up in herself, so that they cannot...
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
Gets up and testifies every night, and cheats the very
He world looks like something God had just imagined for His own pleasure. This isn't poetry but it makes me feel the same way as poetry does.
He's going to marry Ellen West after wanting her all his life. If I was Ellen—but then, I'm not, and if she is satisfied I can very well be. I heard her say years ago when she was a schoolgirl that sh...
He's
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...
It would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry-tree all white with bloom in the moonshine, don't you think?
Life still called to her with many insistent voices.
Monstrosities of tall monuments and draped urns. One of the latter, the biggest and ugliest in the graveyard, was sacred to the memory of a certain Alec Davis who had been born a Methodist but had tak...
Not true—it's not, gasped Rilla. The thing would be—ridiculous, said Gertrude Oliver—and then she laughed horribly. Susan,
Of a cross-marked grave somewhere in France. But tonight it was only a shadow … nothing more.
Oft
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