…determined To Enjoy Her Luxury Of Grief

You'll Never Write Anything That Really Satisfies You Though It May Satisfy Other People.

There's No Use Trying To Live In Other People's Opinions. The Only Thing To Do Is Live In Your Own.

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.

But If You Call Me Anne, Please Call Me Anne With An 'e'.

But Really, Marilla, One Can't Stay Sad Very Long In Such An Interesting World, Can One?