She Seemed To Walk In

I Suppose It Was A Romantic Was To Perish... For A Mouse

Anyhow, There'll Be Plenty Of Jam In Heaven, That's One Comfort, He Said Complacently. Perhaps There Will...if We Want It, She Said, But What Makes You Think So? Why, It's In The Catechism, Said Davy. Oh, No, There Is Nothing Like That In The Catechism, Davy. But I Tell You There Is, Persisted Davy. It Was In That Question Marilla Taught Me Last Sunday. Why Should We Love God? It Says, Because He Makes Preserves, And Redeems Us. Preserves Is Just A Holy Way Of Saying Jam.

When I Think Something Nice Is Going To Happen I Seem To Fly Right Up On The Wings Of Anticipation; And Then The First Thing I Realize I Drop Down To Earth With A Thud. But Really, Marilla, The Flying Part Is Glorious As Long As It Lasts. . . It's Like Soaring Through A Sunset. I Think It Almost Pays For The Thud.

I Am Simply A 'book Drunkard.' Books Have The Same Irresistible Temptation For Me That Liquor Has For Its Devotee. I Cannot Withstand Them.

The Woods Are Never Solitary — They Are Full Of Whispering, Beckoning, Friendly Life. But The Sea Is A Mighty Soul, Forever Moaning Of Some Great, Unshareable Sorrow, Which Shuts It Up Into Itself For All Eternity. We Can Never Pierce Its Infinite Mystery — We May Only Wander, Awed And Spellbound, On The Outer Fringe Of It. The Woods Call To Us With A Hundred Voices, But The Sea Has One Only — A Mighty Voice.