We pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self denial, anxiety and discouragement.
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERYGilbert put his arm about them. ‘Oh, you mothers!’ he said. ‘You mothers! God knew what He was about when He made you.
More Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes
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Oh Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them,” exclaimed Anne.
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When twilight drops her curtain down And pins it with a star Remember that you have a friend Though she may wander far.
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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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That is one good thing about this world – there are always sure to be more springs.
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Facts are stubborn things, but, as some one has wisely said, not half so stubborn as fallacies.
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It’s not what the world holds for you. It’s what you bring to it.
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Gilbert put his arm about them. ‘Oh, you mothers!’ he said. ‘You mothers! God knew what He was about when He made you.
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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.
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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.
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I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return.
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All life lessons are not learned at college,’she thought. Life teaches them everywhere.
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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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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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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.
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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