I Suppose It Was A

That's One Of The Things We Learn As We Grow Older -- How To Forgive. It Comes Easier At Forty Than It Did At Twenty.

Rilla Was Fond Of Italics, As Most Girls Of Fifteen Are.

I Read In A Book Once That A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet, But I've Never Been Able To Believe It. I Don't Believe A Rose Would Be As Nice If It Was Called A Thistle Or A Skunk Cabbage.

There Is No Use In Loving Things If You Have To Be Torn From Them, Is There? And It's So Hard To Keep From Loving Things, Isn't It?

Nothing Mattered Much To Me For A Time There, After You Told Me You Could Never Love Me, Anne. There Was Nobody Else -- There Never Could Be Anybody Else For Me But You. I've Loved You Ever Since That Day You Broke Your Slate Over My Head In School.