It's So Hard To Get Up Again—although

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.

If It's In You To Climb You Must -- There Are Those Who Must Lift Their Eyes To The Hills -- They Can't Breathe Properly In The Valleys.

And He Wrote, "when The Moon Rises Tonight Think Of Me And I'll Think Of You.

It Was October Again ... A Glorious October, All Red And Gold, With Mellow Mornings When The Valleys Were Filled With Delicate Mists As If The Spirit Of Autumn Had Poured Them In For The Sun To Drain - Amethyst, Pearl, Silver, Rose, And Smoke-blue. The Dews Were So Heavy That The Fields Glistened Like Cloth Of Silver And There Were Such Heaps Of Rustling Leaves In The Hollows Of Many-stemmed Woods To Run Crisply Through.

Snow In April Is Abominable," Said Anne. "like A Slap In The Face When You Expect A Kiss.