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Book: Anne of Ingleside
Quotes of Book: Anne of Ingleside

L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
of a cross-marked grave "somewhere in France." But tonight it was only a shadow … nothing more.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
Anne always liked to get up early and catch that mystical half-hour before sunrise when the world belongs to the fairies and the old gods."
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
This is no common day, Mrs. Dr. dear," she said solemnly."Oh, Susan, there is no such thing as a common day. EVERY day has something about it no other day has. Haven't you noticed?
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
I should have found out what was troubling her. But I've been too much taken up with other things this week . . . things that really mattered nothing compared to a child's unhappiness. Think of what the poor darling has suffered."She stooped repentantly, gloatingly over them. They were still hers . . . wholly hers, to mother and love and protect. They still came to her with every love and grief of their little hearts. For a few years longer they would be hers . . . and then? Anne shivered. Motherhood was very sweet . . . but very terrible."I wonder what life holds for them," she whispered.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
Anne sewed and planned little winter wardrobes..."Nan must have a red dress, since she is so set on it"...and sometimes thought of Hannah, weaving her little coat every year for the small Samuel. Mothers were the same all through the centuries...a great sisterhood of love and service...the remembered and the unremembered alike.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
They were all growing so fast. In just a few short years they would be all young men and women...youth tiptoe...expectant...a-star with its sweet wild dreams...little ships sailing out of safe harbor to unknown ports. The boys would go away to their life work and the girls...ah, the mist-veiled forms of beautiful brides might be seen coming down the old stairs at Ingleside. But they would still be hers for a few years yet...hers to love and guide...to sing the songs that so many mothers had sung...Hers...and Gilbert's.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
Dear God, help him and help the mother . . . help all mothers everywhere. We need so much help, with the little sensitive, loving hearts and minds that look to us for guidance and love and understanding.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
It's a dreadful mistake to cherish bitterness for years... hugging it to our hearts like a treasure.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
Time is kinder than we think,' thought Anne. 'It's a dreadful mistake to cherish bitterness for years...hugging it to our hearts like a treasure.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
Anne smiled and sighed. The seasons that seemed so long to Baby Rilla were beginning to pass all too quickly for her. Another summer was ended, lighted out of life by the ageless gold of Lombardy torches. Soon...all too soon...the children of Ingleside would be children no longer. But they were still hers...hers to welcome when they came home at night...hers to fill life with wonder and delight...hers to love and cheer and scold...a little.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
You do love me, Gilbert? You haven't said you loved me in so long.""My dear, I didn't think you needed words to know that. I can't live without you.
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L.M. Montgomery _ Anne of Ingleside
The dark hills, with the darker spruces marching over them, looked grim on early falling nights, but Ingleside bloomed with firelight and laughter, though the winds come in from the Atlantic singing of mournful things. "Why isn't the wind happy, Mummy?" asked Walter one night. "Because it is remembering all the sorrow of the world since it began," answered Anne.
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