To dispair is to turn your back on God.
L.M. MontgomeryWhen a man don't know his own mind, Miss Shirley, ma'am, how's a poor woman going to be sure of it?
L.M. MontgomeryTell me this--if you knew you would be poor as a church mouse all your life--if you knew you'd never have a line published--would you still go on writing--would you?'
'Of course I would,' said Emily disdainfully. 'Why, I have to write--I can't help it at times--I've just got to.
Mots clés writing
I never hear about dear Mike. I wrote Ellen Greene and asked about him and she replyed and never mentioned Mike but told me all about her roomatism. As if I cared about her roomatism.
L.M. MontgomeryMots clés funny cat mike emily-of-new-moon
I've just been imagining that it was really me you wanted after all and that I was to stay here for ever and ever. It was a great comfort while it lasted. But the worst of imagining things is that the time comes when you have to stop and that hurts.
L.M. MontgomeryMots clés anne-of-green-gables
...raised herself on one round elbow and looked out on a tiny river like a gleaming blue snake winding itself around a purple hill. Right below the house was a field white as snow with daisies, and the shadow of the huge maple tree that bent over the little house fell lacily across it. Far beyond it were the white crests of Four Winds Harbour and a long range of sun-washed dunes and red cliffs.
L.M. MontgomeryOh Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them," exclaimed Anne.
L.M. MontgomeryIt was in the spring that Josephine and I had first loved each other, or, at least, had first come into the full knowledge that we loved. I think that we must have loved each other all our lives, and that each succeeding spring was a word in the revelation of that love, not to be understood until, in the fullness of time, the whole sentence was written out in that most beautiful of all beautiful springs.
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Anne reveled in the world of color about her.
"Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill--several thrills?
I detest that woman [Rachel Lynde] more than anybody I know. She can put a whole sermon, text, comment, and application, into six words, and throw it at you like a brick.
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