It's delightful when your imaginations come true, isn't it?
I'm really a very happy, contented little person in spite of my broken heart.
I do know my own mind,' protested Anne. 'The trouble is, my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again.
…I'm so thankful for friendship. It beautifies life so much.
That's the worst of growing up, and I'm beginning to realize it. The things you wanted so much when you were a child don't seem half so wonderful to you when you get them.
I hate to lend a book I love...it never seems quite the same when it comes back to me.
That's the worst…or the best…of real life, Anne. It won't let you be miserable. It keeps on trying to make you comfortable…and succeeding…even when you're determined to be unhappy and romantic.
If we don't chase things, sometimes the things following us can catch up." -L.M. Montgomery
It's bad enough to feel insignificant, but it's unbearable to have it grained into your soul that you will never, can never, be anything but insignificant.
We are never half so interesting when we have learned that language is given us to enable us to conceal our thoughts.
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 as well go and pick out your coffin.
You must pay the penalty of growing-up, Paul. You must leave fairyland behind you.
It seems to me a most dreadful thing to go out of the world and not leave one person behind you who is sorry you are gone,' said Anne, shuddering.
Kindred spirits alone do not change with the changing years.
Most of the trouble in life comes from misunderstanding, I think,' said Anne.
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 — and nice, jolly little times with people.
That doesn't sound very attractive," laughed Anne. "I like people to have a little nonsense about them.
Don't you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down your back?
Words aren't made — they grow,' said Anne.
Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. We have to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful.