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?
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERYThere must be a limit to the mistakes one person can make, and when I get to the end of them, then I’ll be through with them. That’s a comforting thought
More Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes
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It’s not what the world holds for you. It’s what you bring to it.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
trees, unlike so many humans, always improve on acquaintance. No matter how much you like them at the start you are sure to like them much better further on, and best of all when you have known them for years and enjoyed intercourse with them in all seasons.
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Maples are such sociable trees … They’re always rustling and whispering to you.
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Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Mrs. Spencer said it was wicked of me to talk like that, but I didn’t mean to be wicked. It’s so easy to be wicked without knowing it, isn’t it?
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Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. We have to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful.
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In daylight I belong to the world . . . in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I’m free from both and belong only to myself . . . and you
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I’m afraid our old world has come to an end, Rilla. We’ve got to face the fact. (Walter)
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I have really done so few bad things that they have to keep harping on the old ones [.]
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Gilbert put his arm about them. ‘Oh, you mothers!’ he said. ‘You mothers! God knew what He was about when He made you.
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But I believe I rather like superstitious people. They lend color to life. Wouldn’t it be a rather drab world if everybody was wise and sensible . . . and good? What would we find to talk about?
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I hate to lend a book I love…it never seems quite the same when it comes back to me.
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I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return.
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Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by happiness that is not your own.
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The world looks like something God had just imaged for his own pleasure, doesn’t it?
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY