For ere she reach’d upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Posts tagged Anne of Green Gables.
Don’t you do it, Anne,” entreated Diana. “You’ll fall off and be killed. Never mind Josie Pye. It isn’t fair to dare anybody to do anything so dangerous.”
“I must do it. My honor is at stake,” said Anne solemnly. “I shall walk that ridgepole, Diana, or perish in the attempt. If I am killed you are to have my pearl ring.
'Thank you for your heartfelt congratulations, Mr Blythe. But allow me to inform you that next time, I shall be first in every subject!'
Anne of Green Gables favorite scenes [x]
get to know me meme — [1 / 5] favourite female characters → Anne Shirley
'People laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas, you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?'
Anne ShirleyCordelia Renaming Things
It’s dusk, dearest. (In passing, isn’t ‘dusk’ a lovely word? I like it better than twilight. It sounds so velvety and shadowy and - and - dusky.) In daylight I belong to the world, in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I am free from both and belong only to myself - and you. So I’m going to keep this hour sacred to writing to you. Though this won’t be a love-letter. I have a scratchy pen, and I can’t write love-letters with a scratchy pen, or a sharp pen, or a stub pen. So you’ll only get that kind of a letter from me when I have exactly the right kind of a pen.
I have just the right kind of a pen tonight, Gilbert, and so…
(Two pages omitted)
Anne of Windy Willows, L.M. Montgomery.
Halfway down the hill a tall lad came whistling out of a gate before the Blythe homestead. It was Gilbert, and the whistle died on his lips as he recognized Anne. He lifted his cap courteously, but he would have passed on in silence, if Anne had not stopped and held out her hand.
"Gilbert," she said, with scarlet cheeks, "I want to thank you for giving up the school for me. It was very good of you—and I want you to know that I appreciate it."
Gilbert took the offered hand eagerly.
"It wasn’t particularly good of me at all, Anne. I was pleased to be able to do you some small service. Are we going to be friends after this? Have you really forgiven me my old fault?"
Anne laughed and tried unsuccessfully to withdraw her hand.
"I forgave you that day by the pond landing, although I didn’t know it. What a stubborn little goose I was. I’ve been—I may as well make a complete confession—I’ve been sorry ever since."
"We are going to be the best of friends," said Gilbert, jubilantly. "We were born to be good friends, Anne. You’ve thwarted destiny enough. I know we can help each other in many ways. You are going to keep up your studies, aren’t you? So am I. Come, I’m going to walk home with you."
Marilla looked curiously at Anne when the latter entered the kitchen.
"Who was that came up the lane with you, Anne?"
"Gilbert Blythe," answered Anne, vexed to find herself blushing. "I met him on Barry’s hill."
"I didn’t think you and Gilbert Blythe were such good friends that you’d stand for half an hour at the gate talking to him," said Marilla with a dry smile.
"We haven’t been—we’ve been good enemies. But we have decided that it will be much more sensible to be good friends in the future. Were we really there half an hour? It seemed just a few minutes. But, you see, we have five years’ lost conversations to catch up with, Marilla."
— Anne of Green Gables, chapter 38
Anne went to the little Avonlea graveyard the next evening to put fresh flowers on Matthew’s grave and water the Scotch rosebush. She lingered there until dusk, liking the peace and calm of the little place, with its poplars whose rustle was like low, friendly speech, and its whispering grasses growing at will among the graves. When she finally left it and walked down the long hill that sloped to the Lake of Shining Waters it was past sunset and all Avonlea lay before her in a dreamlike afterlight— “a haunt of ancient peace.” There was a freshness in the air as of a wind that had blown over honey-sweet fields of clover. Home lights twinkled out here and there among the homestead trees. Beyond lay the sea, misty and purple, with its haunting, unceasing murmur. The west was a glory of soft mingled hues, and the pond reflected them all in still softer shadings. The beauty of it all thrilled Anne’s heart, and she gratefully opened the gates of her soul to it.
"Dear old world," she murmured, “you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.”
— Anne of Green Gables, chapter 38