Words Aren't Made — They Grow,' Said

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.

Despair Is A Free Man--hope Is A Slave.

There's Such A Lot Of Different Annes In Me. I Sometimes Think That Is Why I'm Such A Troublesome Person. If I Was Just The One Anne It Would Be Ever So Much More Comfortable, But Then It Wouldn't Be Half So Interesting.

The Beauty Of Winter Is That It Makes You Appreciate Spring.

It's Fun To Be Almost Grown Up In Some Ways, But It's Not The Kind Of Fun I Expected, Marilla. There's So Much To Learn And Do And Think That There Isn't Time For Big Words.