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I like to hear a storm at night. It is so cosy to snuggle down among the blankets and feel that it can't get at you.

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
Hear
Night
Feel
Snuggle
Feels
Cosy
Like
Blankets
Blanket
Storm
Among

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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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Make them do as you want them to, she said. I can’t, mourned Anne. Averil is such an unmanageable heroine. She will do and say things I never meant her to. Then that spoils everything that went before and I have to write it all over again.
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I have a dream, he said slowly. I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends -- and YOU!
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It's dreadful what little things lead people to misunderstand each other.
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That's a lovely idea, Diana,' said Anne enthusiastically. 'Living so that you beautify your name, even if it wasn't beautiful to begin with…making it stand in people's thoughts for something so lovely and pleasant that they never think of it by itself. Thank you, Diana.
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...a little appreciation sometimes does quite as much good as all the conscientious bringing up in the world.
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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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Tears don't hurt like the ache does.
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She had looked her duty courageously in the face and found it a friend - as duty ever is when we meet it frankly.
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I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage.
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That is one consolation when you are poor—there are so many more things you can imagine about.
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Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously.
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But she had long ago learned that when she wandered into the realm of fancy she must go alone. The way to it was by an enchanted path where not even her dearest might follow her.
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There isn't any such thing as an ordinary life. (92)
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She looks just as music sounds, I think,' answered Anne.
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But really, Marilla, one can't stay sad very long in such an interesting world, can one?
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Love you! Girl, you're in the very core of my heart. I hold you there like a jewel. Didn't I promise you I'd never tell you a lie? Love you! I love you with all there is of me to love. Heart, soul, brain. Every fibre of body and spirit thrilling to the sweetness of you. There's nobody in the world for me but you, Valancy.
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I heard someone say once that the years from fifteen to nineteen are the best years in a girl's life.
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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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Fancies are like shadows...you can't cage them, they're such wayward, dancing things.
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