Quote

Anne always remembered the silvery, peaceful beauty and fragrant calm of that night. It was the last night before sorrow touched her life and no life is ever quite the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

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Lucy Maud Montgomery
Age: 67 †
Born: 1874
Born: November 30
Died: 1942
Died: April 24
Author
Biographer
Diarist
Novelist
Poet
Short Story Writer
Writer
New London
Prince Edward Island
Lucy Maud Montgomery Macdonald
Touch
Silvery
Night
Sorrow
Fragrant
Ever
Cold
Anne
Always
Quite
Laid
Life
Beauty
Touched
Lasts
Peaceful
Last
Remembered
Calm
Sanctifying
Upon

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Of all the uncertain things marriage is the uncertainest.
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You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair, said Anne reproachfully. People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble is.
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I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.
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I love them, they are so nice and selfish. Dogs are TOO good and unselfish. They make me feel uncomfortable. But cats are gloriously human.
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Behind them in the garden the little stone house brooded among the shadows. It was lonely but not forsaken. It had not yet done with dreams and laughter and the joy of life there were to be future summers for the little stone house meanwhile, it could wait. And over the river in purple durance the echoes bided their time.
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In this world you've just got to hope for the best and prepare for the worst and take whatever God sends.
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she was richer in those dreams than in realities for things seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
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One can't get over the habit of being a little girl all at once.
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Nobody can keep on being angry if she looks into the heart of a pansy for a little while.
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Youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.
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Few things in Avonlea ever escaped Mrs. Lynde. It was only that morning Anne had said, If you went to your own room at midnight, locked the door, pulled down the blind, and sneezed, Mrs. Lynde would ask you the next day how your cold was!
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I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla. 'Then your soul is a golden narcissus,' said Anne, 'and Diana's is like a red, red rose. Jane's is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome and sweet.' 'And our own is a white violet, with purple streaks in its heart,' finished Priscilla.
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You're never safe from being surprised until you're dead.
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All pioneers are considered to be afflicted with moonstruck madness.
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The woods are never solitary--they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity.
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I must be getting old ... People are beginning to tell me I look so young. They never tell you that when you are young.
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We came to the comforting conclusion that the Creator probably knew how to run His universe quite as well as we do, and that, after all, there are no such things as 'wasted' lives, saving and except when am individual wilfully squanders and wastes his own life.
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But I'd rather look like you than be pretty, she told Anne sincerely. Anne laughed, sipped honey from the tribute, and cast away the sting.
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…determined to enjoy her luxury of grief uncomforted.
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I suppose it was a romantic was to perish... for a mouse
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