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 MONTGOMERYMarch 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.
More Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes
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I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return.
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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One can’t get over the habit of being a little girl all at once.
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The world looks like something God had just imaged for his own pleasure, doesn’t it?
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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
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Life, deal gently with her … Love, never desert her
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
We are never half so interesting when we have learned that language is given us to enable us to conceal our thoughts.
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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 -
Dear old world’, she murmured, ‘you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.
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Fancies are like shadows…you can’t cage them, they’re such wayward, dancing things.
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Oh Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them,” exclaimed Anne.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
Youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.
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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.
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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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Some nights are like honey – and some like wine – and some like wormwood.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY