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. — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
“Tell me this--if you knew you would be poor as a church mouse all your life--if you knew you'd never have a line published--would… — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
It was October again ... a glorious October, all red and gold, with mellow mornings when the valleys were filled with delicate mists as if the spirit of autumn had poured them in for the sun to drain - amethyst, pearl, silver, rose, and smoke-blue. The dews were so heavy that the fields glistened like cloth of silver and there… — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share
Without shedding of blood there is no anything. Everything, it seems to me, has to be purchased by selfsacrifice. Our race has marked every… — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
Isn't it good just to be alive on a day like this? I pity the people who aren't born yet for missing it. — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
An old house with its windows gone always makes me think of something dead with its eyes picked out. — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
What is it really like to be engaged?" asked Anne curiously. "Well, that all depends on who you're engaged to," answered Diana, with that… — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
Hark, I hear a robin calling! List, the wind is from the south! And the orchard-bloom is falling Sweet as kisses on the mouth.… — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
As she walked along she dramatized the night. There was about it a wild, lawless charm that appealed to a certain wild, lawless strain… — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
“In this life you've got to hope for the best, prepare for the worst and take whatever God sends.” — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
“You 're not eating anything,” said Marilla sharply, eying her as if it were a serious shortcoming. Anne sighed. “I can 't. I'm in… — Lucy Maud Montgomery Copy Share Image
