Nothing Worth While Is Every Easy Come

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.

There Are So Many Unpleasant Things In The World Already That There Is No Use In Imagining Any More.

Who Would Endure Life If It Were Not For The Hope Of Death?

It Was November--the Month Of Crimson Sunsets, Parting Birds, Deep, Sad Hymns Of The Sea, Passionate Wind-songs In The Pines. Anne Roamed Through The Pineland Alleys In The Park And, As She Said, Let That Great Sweeping Wind Blow The Fogs Out Of Her Soul.

Why Is It That The Nicest Things Never Are Healthy?