#montgomery

It's the worst kind of cruelty — the thoughtless kind. You can't cope with it. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#l-m-montgomery #dreams

The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only — a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#woods #dreams

It's delightful when your imaginations come true, isn't it? ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#l-m-montgomery #imagination

Oh, here we are at the bridge. I'm going to shut my eyes tight. I’m always afraid going over bridges. I can't help imagining that perhaps, just as we get to the middle, they'll crumple up like a jackknife and nip us. So I shut my eyes. But I always have to open them for all when I think we're getting near the middle. Because, you see, if the bridge did crumple up I'd want to see it crumple. What a jolly rumble it makes! I always like the rumble part of it. Isn't it splendid there are so many things to like in this world? There, we're over. Now I'll look back. Good night, dear Lake of Shining Waters. I always say good night to the things I love, just as I would to people. I think they like it. That water looks as if it was smiling at me. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#imagination

But was anything in life, Anne asked herself wearily, like one's imagination of it? ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#life #imagination

Don't be very frightened, Marilla. I was walking the ridge-pole and I fell off. I suspect I have sprained my ankle. But, Marilla, I might have broken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#anne-shirley #upside #l-m-montgomery

March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland of moonshine. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#winter #l-m-montgomery

God's in His heaven, alls right with the world', whispered Anne softly. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#l-m-montgomery

You have the itch for writing born in you. It's quite incurable. What are you going to do with it? ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#l-m-montgomery

She seemed to walk in an atmosphere of things about to happen. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#l-m-montgomery