Matthew, much to his own surprise, was enjoying himself. Like most quiet folks he liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of it.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERYIt’s so hard to get up again—although of course the harder it is the more satisfaction you have when you do get up, haven’t you?
More Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes
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It’s the worst kind of cruelty — the thoughtless kind. You can’t cope with it.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY -
One can’t get over the habit of being a little girl all at once.
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She had a way of embroidering life with stars.
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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 -
I’m really a very happy, contented little person in spite of my broken heart.
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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’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 -
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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Anne, are you killed?’ shrieked Diana, throwing herself on her knees beside her friend. ‘Oh, Anne, dear Anne, speak just one word to me and tell me if you’re killed.
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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 -
A child that has a quick temper, just blaze up and cool down, ain’t never likely to be sly or deceitful.
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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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Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. We have to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful.
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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.
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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