Anne: "but Have You Ever Noticed One

I'd Write Of People And Places Like I Knew, And I'd Make My Characters Talk Everyday English; And I'd Let The Sun Rise And Set In The Usual Quiet Way Without Much Fuss Over The Fact. If I Had To Have Villains At All, I'd Give Them A Chance, Anne--i'd Give Them A Chance. There Are Some Terrible Bad Men The World, I Suppose, But You'd Have To Go A Long Piece To Find Them...but Most Of Us Have Got A Little Decency Somewhere In Us. Keep On Writing, Anne.

I Don't Like Green Christmases. They're Not Green—they're Just Nasty Faded Browns And Grays.

You See," She Concluded Miserably, "when I Can Call Like That To Him Across Space--i Belong To Him. He Doesn't Love Me--he Never Will--but I Belong To Him.

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.

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.