Red Hair Is My Life Long Sorrow.

I Wonder If It Will Be—can Be—any More Beautiful Than This,’ Murmured Anne, Looking Around Her With The Loving, Enraptured Eyes Of Those To Whom ‘home’ Must Always Be The Loveliest Spot In The World, No Matter What Fairer Lands May Lie Under Alien Stars.

Outgrowing Things We Love Is Never A Pleasant Process.

Isn't It Splendid To Think Of All The Things There Are To Find Out About? It Just Makes Me Feel Glad To Be Alive--it's Such An Interesting World. It Wouldn't Be Half So Interesting If We Know All About Everything, Would It? There'd Be No Scope For Imagination Then, Would There?but Am I Talking Too Much? People Are Always Telling Me I Do. Would You Rather I Didn't Talk? If You Say So I'll Stop. I Can Stop When I Make Up My Mind To It, Although It's Difficult.

There Was No Mistaking Her Sincerity--it Breathed In Every Tone Of Her Voice. Both Marilla And Mrs. Lynde Recognized Its Unmistakable Ring. But The Former Understood In Dismay That Anne Was Actually Enjoying Her Valley Of Humiliation--was Reveling In The Thoroughness Of Her Abasement. Where Was The Wholesome Punishment Upon Which She, Marilla, Had Plumed Herself? Anne Had Turned It Into A Species Of Positive Pleasure.

There Is No Use In Loving Things If You Have To Be Torn From Them, Is There? And It's So Hard To Keep From Loving Things, Isn't It?