I suppose that's how it looks in prose. But it's very different if you look at it through poetryand I think it's nicer' Anne recovered herself and her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed 'to look at it through poetry.
L.M. Montgomery
I hate to lend a book I loveit never seems quite the same when it comes back to me
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I'm so thankful for friendship. It beautifies life so much.
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Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by happiness that is not your own.
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Kindred spirits alone do not change with the changing years.
Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. We have to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful
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We've had a beautiful friendship, Diana. We've never marred it by one quarrel or coolness or unkind word; and I hope it will always be so. But things can't be quite the same after this. You'll have other interests. I'll just be on the outside.
Oh, Marilla, I thought I was happy before. Now I know that I just dreamed a pleasant dream of happiness. This is the reality.
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The gods, so says the old superstition, do not like to behold too happy mortals. It is certain, at least, that some human beings do not.
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Don't you just love poetry that gives you a crinkly feeling up and down your back?
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I'm sorry, and a little dissatisfied as well. Miss Stacy told me long ago that by the time I was twenty my character would be formed, for good or evil. I don't feel that it's what it should be. It's full of flaws.' 'So's everybody's,' said Aunt Jamesina cheerfully. 'Mine's cracked in a hundred places. Your Miss Stacy likely meant that when you are twenty your character would have got its permanent bent in one direction or 'tother, and would go on developing in that line.
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I'm afraid of those cows,' protested poor Dora, seeing a prospect of escape.'The very idea of your being scared of those cows,' scoffed Davy. 'Why, they're both younger than you.
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She had dreamed some brilliant dreams during the past winter and now they lay in the dust around her. In her present mood of self-disgust, she could not immediately begin dreaming again. And she discovered that, while solitude with dreams is glorious, solitude without them has few charms.
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Listen to the trees talking in their sleep,' she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. 'What nice dreams they must have!
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I'm so glad you're here, Anne,' said Miss Lavendar, nibbling at her candy. 'If you weren't I should be bluevery bluealmost navy blue. Dreams and make-believes are all very well in the daytime and the sunshine, but when dark and storm come they fail to satisfy. One wants real things then. But you don't know thisseventeen never knows it. At seventeen dreams do satisfy because you think the realities are waiting for you further on.
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