Gossip, As Usual, Was One-third Right And

It 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.

It Is A Strange Thing To Read A Letter After The Writer Is Dead - A Bitter-sweet Thing, In Which Pain And Comfort Are Strangely Mingled.

You Mayn't Get The Things Themselves; But Nothing Can Prevent You From Having The Fun Of Looking Forward To Them.

Nothing Mattered Much To Me For A Time There, After You Told Me You Could Never Love Me, Anne. There Was Nobody Else -- There Never Could Be Anybody Else For Me But You. I've Loved You Ever Since That Day You Broke Your Slate Over My Head In School.

You Never Know What Peace Is Until You Walk On The Shores Or In The Fields Or Along The Winding Red Roads Of Prince Edward Island In A Summer Twilight When The Dew Is Falling And The Old Stars Are Peeping Out And The Sea Keeps Its Mighty Tryst With The Little Land It Loves. You Find Your Soul Then. You Realize That Youth Is Not A Vanished Thing But Something That Dwells Forever In The Heart.