Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
It was three o'clock in the morning – the wisest and most accursed hour of the clock. But sometimes it sets us free.
I believe I've put forth a tiny soul-root into Kingsport soil this afternoon. I hope so. I hate to feel transplanted.
That's one of the things we learn as we grow older -- how to forgive. It comes easier at forty than it did at twenty.
We are never half so interesting when we have learned that language is given us to enable us to conceal our thoughts.
The body grows slowly and steadily but the soul grows by leaps and bounds. It may come to its full stature in an hour.
Gilbert put his arm about them. 'Oh, you mothers!' he said. 'You mothers! God knew what He was about when He made you.
I know I chatter on far too much... but if you only knew how many things I want to say and don't. Give me SOME credit.
I must be getting old ... People are beginning to tell me I look so young. They never tell you that when you are young.
When twilight drops her curtain down And pins it with a star Remember that you have a friend Though she may wander far.
Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.
I know I haven't much sense or sobriety, but I've got what is ever so much better — the knack of making people like me.
Rebellion flamed up in her soul as the dark hours passed by – not because she had no future but because she had no past.
she was richer in those dreams than in realities; for things seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
People told her she hadn't changed much, in a tone which hinted they were surprised and a little disappointed she hadn't.
I wonder why people so commonly suppose that if two individuals are both writers they must therefore be hugely congenial.
Proverbs are all very fine when there's nothing to worry you, but when you're in real trouble, they're not a bit of help.
I'm not a bit changed - not really. I'm only just pruned down and branched out. The real me - back here - is just the same.
Nathan always believed his wife was trying to poison him but he didn't seem to mind. He said it made life kind of exciting.
Perhaps. . .love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.
Fear is a confession of weakness. What you fear is stronger than you, or you think it is, else you wouldn't be afraid of it.
Oh, Marilla, I thought I was happy before. Now I know that I just dreamed a pleasant dream of happiness. This is the reality.
Listen to the trees talking in their sleep,' she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. 'What nice dreams they must have!
Nobody with any real sense of humor *can* write a love story. . . . Shakespeare is the exception that proves the rule. (90-91)
I can't help flying up on the wings of anticipation. It's as glorious as soaring through a sunset... almost pays for the thud.
Anyone who has gumption knows what it is, and anyone who hasn’t can never know what it is. So there is no need of defining it.
People laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas, you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?
Oh, of course there's a risk in marrying anybody, but, when it's all said and done, there's many a worse thing than a husband.
one reason why I like writing poetry - you can say so many things in it that are true in poetry but wouldn't be true in prose.
I've always held that early marriage is a sure indication of second-rate goods that had to be sold in a hurry." - Martin Harris
It's so hard to get up again—although of course the harder it is the more satisfaction you have when you do get up, haven't you?
Why, I've never even had a quarrel with any one. I haven't an enemy. What a spineless thing I must be not to have even one enemy!
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.
War was a hellish, horrible hideous thing - too horrible and hideous to happen in the twentieth century between civilised nations.
There is no use in loving things if you have to be torn from them, is there? And it's so hard to keep from loving things, isn't it?
Isn't it terrible the way some unworthy folks are loved, while others that deserve it far more, you'd think, never get much affection?
Don't be led away by those howls about realism. Remember-pine woods are just as real as pigsties and a darn sight pleasanter to be in.
It does not do to laugh at the pangs of youth. They are very terrible because youth has not yet learned that 'this, too, will pass away.
If it's IN you to climb you must -- there are those who MUST lift their eyes to the hills -- they can't breathe properly in the valleys.
I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?
It is a strange thing to read a letter after the writer is dead - a bitter-sweet thing, in which pain and comfort are strangely mingled.
Blessings be the inventor of the alphabet, pen and printing press! Life would be -- to me in all events -- a terrible thing without books.
I've always loved the night and I'll like lying awake and thinking over everything in life, past, present and to come. Especially to come.
Don't look at me so sorrowfully and so disapprovingly, dearest. I can't be sober and serious - everything looks so rosy and rainbowy to me.
It's not vanity to know your own good points. It would just be stupidity if you didn't; It's only vanity when you get puffed up about them.
I love them, they are so nice and selfish. Dogs are TOO good and unselfish. They make me feel uncomfortable. But cats are gloriously human.
I am simply a 'book drunkard.' Books have the same irresistible temptation for me that liquor has for its devotee. I cannot withstand them.
A house isn't a home without the ineffable contentment of a cat with its tail folded about its feet. A cat gives mystery, charm, suggestion.
It was really dreadful to be so different from other people…and yet rather wonderful, too, as if you were a being strayed from another star.
I've had a splendid time," she concluded happily, "and I feel that it marks an epoch in my life. But the best of it all was the coming home.
But I'd rather look like you than be pretty," she told Anne sincerely. Anne laughed, sipped honey from the tribute, and cast away the sting.