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?
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERYYouth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.
More Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes
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Fancies are like shadows…you can’t cage them, they’re such wayward, dancing things.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
Fear is the original sin. Almost all of the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of something.It is a cold slimy serpent coiling about you. It is horrible to live with fear; and it is of all things degrading.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
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.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
There 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
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
All life lessons are not learned at college,’she thought. Life teaches them everywhere.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
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 MONTGOMERY -
That is one good thing about this world – there are always sure to be more springs.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
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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How fair the realm Imagination opens to the view.
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She had a way of embroidering life with stars.
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It’s not what the world holds for you. It’s what you bring to it.
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March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland of moonshine.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.
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My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.
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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.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY