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One can’t get over the habit of being a little girl all at once.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

I hate to lend a book I love…it never seems quite the same when it comes back to me.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Back Book Come Hate
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
Maples are such sociable trees … They’re always rustling and whispering to you.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Sociable Tree Whispering
It’s the worst kind of cruelty — the thoughtless kind. You can’t cope with it.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Cruelty Kind Worst
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
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Night Sleep World
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
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

Degrad Evil Fear World
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
Dear old world’, she murmured, ‘you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Alive Glad Lovely World
Heretics are wicked, but they’re mighty int’resting. It’s jest that they’ve got sorter lost looking for God, being under the impression that He’s hard to find – which He ain’t never.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Jest Look Lost Sorter Wicked
My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Hope Life Perfect
Some nights are like honey – and some like wine – and some like wormwood.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Honeym Night Wine Wormwood
There are so many unpleasant things in the world already that there is no use in imagining any more.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Imaginary Use World
Life, deal gently with her … Love, never desert her
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

Deal Desert Gently
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

One can’t get over the habit of being a little girl all at once.

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One can’t get over the habit of being a little girl all at once.

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