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You have the itch for writing born in you. It's quite incurable. What are you going to do with 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
Incurable
Quite
Born
Writing
Going
Itch
More quotes by Lucy Maud Montgomery
…I'm so thankful for friendship. It beautifies life so much.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
I've a pocket full of dreams to sell, said Teddy, whimsically,... What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? A dream of success--a dream of adventure--a dream of the sea--a dream of the woodland--any kind of a dream you want at reasonable prices, including one or two unique little nightmares. What will you give me for a dream?
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Fear is a confession of weakness. What you fear is stronger than you, or you think it is, else you wouldn't be afraid of it.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Don't you know that it is only very foolish folk who talk sense all the time?
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Tears don't hurt like the ache does.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
As a rule, I am very careful to be shallow and conventional where depth and originality are wasted.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
She had looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend - as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Satirize wickedness if you must--but pity weakness.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
I am well in body although considerable rumpled up in spirit.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
But feeling is so different from knowing. My common sense tells me all you can say, but there are times when common sense has no power over me. Common nonsense takes possession of my soul.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Don't be ridiculous, please.' The most insulting words in the world!
Lucy Maud Montgomery
After all, what could you expect from a pig but a grunt?
Lucy Maud Montgomery
But really, Marilla, one can't stay sad very long in such an interesting world, can one?
Lucy Maud Montgomery
You see, she concluded miserably, when I can call like that to him across space--I belong to him. He doesn't love me--he never will--but I belong to him.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
I have learned to look upon each little hindrance as a jest and each great one as a foreshadowing of victory.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
I suppose it was a romantic was to perish... for a mouse
Lucy Maud Montgomery
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.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
It was rapture enough just to sit there beside him in silence, alone in the summer night in the white splendor of moonshine, with the wind blowing down on them out of the pine woods.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
It is never quite safe to think we have done with life. When we imagine we have finished our story fate has a trick of turning the page and showing us yet another chapter.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
I wouldn't want to marry anybody who was wicked, but I think I'd like it if he could be wicked and wouldn't.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
