black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Some nights are like honey – and some like wine – and some like wormwood.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

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

Mind Own Trouble
She had never before minded being alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt so dreadfully alone.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Dread Felt Mind Woman
Maples are such sociable trees … They’re always rustling and whispering to you.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Sociable Tree Whispering
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

Lamb Twilight Winter
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?
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Know Mean Wicked
She had a way of embroidering life with stars.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Embroidery Star Way
Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Air Inspirational Mistake
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.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Acquaintance Matter Tree Year
What had seemed easy in imagination was rather hard in reality.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Easy Imagination Reality
It’s the worst kind of cruelty — the thoughtless kind. You can’t cope with it.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Cruelty Kind Worst
When twilight drops her curtain down And pins it with a star Remember that you have a friend Though she may wander far.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

May Stars Twilight
most people worry so much, they think you’re not right if you don’t worry.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

People Thanks Uneasyness Worry
Gilbert put his arm about them. ‘Oh, you mothers!’ he said. ‘You mothers! God knew what He was about when He made you.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Arms Made Mother People
My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Hope Life Perfect
She had looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend – as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Duty Faces Found Friend
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 MONTGOMERY

Believe Color Drab Rather Wise

Some nights are like honey – and some like wine – and some like wormwood.

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Some nights are like honey – and some like wine – and some like wormwood.

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