We Don't Know Where We're Going, But

There Was No Mistaking Her Sincerity--it Breathed In Every Tone Of Her Voice. Both Marilla And Mrs. Lynde Recognized Its Unmistakable Ring. But The Former Understood In Dismay That Anne Was Actually Enjoying Her Valley Of Humiliation--was Reveling In The Thoroughness Of Her Abasement. Where Was The Wholesome Punishment Upon Which She, Marilla, Had Plumed Herself? Anne Had Turned It Into A Species Of Positive Pleasure.

Behind Them In The Garden The Little Stone House Brooded Among The Shadows. It Was Lonely But Not Forsaken. It Had Not Yet Done With Dreams And Laughter And The Joy Of Life; There Were To Be Future Summers For The Little Stone House; Meanwhile, It Could Wait. And Over The River In Purple Durance The Echoes Bided Their Time.

The Night Was Clear And Frosty, All Ebony Of Shadow And Silver Of Snowy Slope; Big Stars Were Shining Over The Silent Fields; Here And There The Dark Pointed Firs Stood Up With Snow Powdering Their Branches And The Wind Whistling Through Them.

Mrs. Cadbury: Tell Me What You Know About Yourself. Anne Shirley: Well, It Really Isn't Worth Telling, Mrs. Cadbury... But If You Let Me Tell You What I Imagine About Myself You'd Find It A Lot More Interesting.

Fear Is A Confession Of Weakness. What You Fear Is Stronger Than You, Or You Think It Is, Else You Wouldn't Be Afraid Of It.