Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes

As a rule, I am very careful to be shallow and conventional where depth and originality are wasted.

In this world you've just got to hope for the best and prepare for the worst and take whatever God sends.

[O]ne can dream so much better in a room where there are pretty things.

Trees, unlike so many humans, always improve on acquaintance. No matter how much you like them at the start you are sure to like them much better further on, and best of all when you have known them for years and enjoyed intercourse with them in all seasons.

I'm not a bit changed - not really. I'm only just pruned down and branched out. The real me - back here - is just the same.

Trees have as much individuality as human beings. Not even two spruces are alike. There is always some kink or curve or bend of bough to single each one out from its fellows.

Gossip lies nine times and tells a half truth the tenth.

There are so many unpleasant things in the world already that there is no use in imagining any more.

It's as easy to give away a million as a hundred if you have not got either ...

When people mean to be good to you, you don't mind very much when they're not quite - always.

Outgrowing things we love is never a pleasant process.

Since ever the world was spinning And till the world shall end You've your man in the beginning Or you have him in the end, But to have him from start to finish And neither nor borrow nor lend Is what all of the girls are wanting And none of the gods can send

Hark, I hear a robin calling!
List, the wind is from the south!
And the orchard-bloom is falling
Sweet as kisses on the mouth.
In the dreamy vale of beeches
Fair and faint is woven mist,
And the river's orient reaches
Are the palest amethyst.
Every limpid brook is singing
Of the lure of April days;
Every piney glen is ringing
With the maddest roundelays.
Come and let us seek together
Springtime lore of daffodils,
Giving to the golden weather
Greeting on the sun-warm hills.

Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.

That is one good thing about this world ... there are always sure to be more springs.

It only seems as if you are doing something when you're worrying.

Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.

I believe flowers have souls. I have known roses that I expect to meet in heaven.

I have a little brown cocoon of an idea that may possibly expand into a magnificent moth of fulfilment ...

Heretics are wicked, but they're mighty int'resting. It's jest that they've got sorter lost looking for God, being under the impression that He's hard to find - which He ain't never.

I must be getting old ... People are beginning to tell me I look so young. They never tell you that when you are young.

Isn't it good just to be alive on a day like this? I pity the people who aren't born yet for missing it.

It is a strange thing to read a letter after the writer is dead - a bitter-sweet thing, in which pain and comfort are strangely mingled.

Dramatic things always have a bitterness for some one.

Maples are such sociable trees ... They're always rustling and whispering to you.

Few women are so beautiful and charming that they can afford to divest themselves of any portion of their charm; so they are very foolish to do so by smoking. It doesn't matter about men. Men look ugly and silly, too, when smoking. But it isn't beauty that matters with them-only strength

A good laugh is as good as a prayer sometimes.

Anne Shirley. Anne with an e.

Everything is new in the spring. Springs themselves are always so new, too. No spring is ever just like any other spring. It always has something of its own to be its own peculiar sweetness.

Facts are stubborn things, but, as some one has wisely said, not half so stubborn as fallacies.

Human nature is not obliged to be consistent.

I'd rather look ridiculous when everybody else does than plain and sensible all by myself.

How wicked I was to wish that something dramatic would happen!' she thought. 'Oh, if we could only have those dear, monotonous, pleasant days back again! I would *never* grumble about them again.

I shall give life here my best, and I believe it will give its best to me in return.

An old house with its windows gone always makes me think of something dead with its eyes picked out.

Some nights are like honey - and some like wine - and some like wormwood.

When I make up my mind to do a thing it stays made up.

Nasturtiums, who colored you, you wonderful, glowing things? You must have been fashioned out of summer sunsets.

It only seems as if you're doing something when you worry.

Children can be the most cruel creatures alive. They have the herd instinct of prejudice against any outsider, and they are merciless in its indulgence.

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.

The little things in life often make more trouble than the big things.

It's so easy to be wicked without knowing it, isn't it?

Wouldn't it be nice if roses could talk? I'm sure they could tell us such lovely things.

I feel as though someone's handed me the moon and I don't exactly know what to do with it.

A child that has a quick temper, just blaze up and cool down, ain't never likely to be sly or deceitful.

A few italics really do relieve your feelings.

Doesn't matter what a person's name is as long as he behaves himself.

Folks that has brought up children know that there's no hard and fast method in the world that'll suit every child. But them as never have think it's all as plain and easy as Rule of Three - just set your three terms down so fashion, and the sum'll work out correct.

If I can't get what I want - well, I'll want what I can get.

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.

The point of good writing is knowing when to stop.

Have you ever noticed how many silences there are Gilbert? The silence of the woods ... of the shore ... of the meadows ... of the night ... of the summer afternoon. All different because the undertones that thread them are different.

Nothing ever seems impossible in spring, you know.

I love pretty things; and I hate to look in the glass and see something that isn't pretty. It makes me feel so sorrowful - just as I feel when I look at any ugly thing. I pity it because it isn't beautiful.