The World Is Always Young Again For

But Anne With Her Elbows On The Window Sill, Her Soft Cheek Laid Against Her Clasped Hands, And Her Eyes Filled With Visions, Looked Out Unheedingly Across City Roof And Spire To That Glorious Dome Of Sunset Sky And Wove Her Dreams Of A Possible Future From The Golden Tissue Of Youth's Own Optimism. All The Beyond Was Hers, With Its Possibilities Lurking Rosily In The Oncoming Years — Each Year A Rose Of Promise To Be Woven Into An Immortal Chaplet.

I'm So Glad I Live In A World Where There Are Octobers.

Kindred Spirits Are Not So Scarce As I Used To Think. It's Splendid To Find Out There Are So Many Of Them In The World.

You'd Find It Easier To Be Bad Than Good If You Had Red Hair," Said Anne Reproachfully. "people Who Haven't Red Hair Don't Know What Trouble Is.

Poor Soul, She Always Knew Everything About Her Neighbors, But She Never Was Very Well Acquainted With Herself.