Quotes About Connection

The trouble is you and Mrs Lynde don't understand each other. That is always what is wrong when people don't like each other. - Anne Shirley

Jos voitte istua toisen ihmisen seurassa vaiti puoli tuntia ja tuntea olonne mukavaksi, teistä ja tuosta ihmisestä voi tulla ystävät. Jos ette voi, teistä ei tule koskaan ystäviä, eikä teidän kannata tuhlata aikaa yrittämiseen.

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'm free from both and belong only to myself—and you. — L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Windy Poplars (Oxford City Press, 2012)(via luthienne)

For, disguise the fact as we will, when friends, even the closest—perhaps the more because of that very closeness—meet again after a separation there is always a chill, lesser or greater, of change. Neither finds the other quite the same. This is natural and inevitable. Human nature is ever growing or retrogressing—never stationary.

Chippy, pulling his hand from Rilla's. Rilla

Jimmy Murray, you are an ass,' said Aunt Ruth, angrily. 'Well, we're cousins,' agreed Cousin Jimmy pleasantly.

Pat wanted to comfort him for something she did not understand. She slipped her little hand into his...he had a warm pleasant hand. They walked home together so.

A seafaring uncle had given it to her mother who in turn had bequeathed it to Marilla. It was an old-fashioned oval, containing a braid of her mother's hair, surrounded by a border of very fine amethysts.

There is no use in loving things if you have to be torn from them, is there?

Cuando el crepúsculo deje caer su cortina y prenda allí una estrella, recuerda que tienes cerca una amiga, aunque la distancia te separe de ella.

That water looks as if it was smiling at me

They belonged to each other; and, no matter what life might hold for them, it could never alter that. Their happiness was in each other's keeping and both were unafraid.

I fear the name of friendship is often degraded to a kind of intimacy that has nothing of real friendship in it.

If I really wanted to pray I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd go out into a great big field all alone or into the deep, deep, woods, and I'd look up into the sky—up—up—up—into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there was no end to its blueness. And then I'd just FEEL a prayer.

She was always at her best with him, with a delightful feeling of being understood. To love is easy and therefore common - but to understand - how rare it is!

JeÅ›li potrafisz spÄ™dzi? z kimÅ› póÅ' godziny w zupeÅ'nym milczeniu i nie czu? przy tym wcale skrepowania, ty i osoba ta mo?ecie zosta? przyjacióÅ'mi. JeÅ›li zaÅ› milczenie bÄ™dzie wam ci??yÅ'o, jesteÅ›cie sobie obcy i nie warto nawet stara? siÄ™ o zadzierzgniÄ™cie przyja?ni.

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. It won't make a bit of difference where I go or how much I change outwardly; at heart I shall always be your little Anne, who will love you and Matthew and dear Green Gables more and better every day of her life.

Miss Barry was a kindred spirit, after all,' Anne confided to Marilla. 'You wouldn't think so to look at her, but she is. You don't find it right out at first, as in Matthew's case, but after a while you come to see it. Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.

That Gilbert of yours is a darling, Anne

I like people who make me love them. It saves me so much trouble in making myself love them. - Miss Barry

But he wasn't talking to me,' protested Anne. 'He was talking to God and he didn't seem to be very much interested in it, either. I think he thought God was too far off to make it worth while.

It's nice to be needed

If I really wanted to pray I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd go out into a great big field all alone or into the deep, deep woods, and I'd look up into the sky - up - up - up - into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there was no end to its blueness. And then I'd just feel the prayer.

The Blue Chest of Rachel Ward was another ower-true tale. Rachel Ward was Eliza Montgomery, a cousin of my father's, who died in Toronto a few years ago. The blue chest was in the kitchen of Uncle John Campbell's house at Park Corner from 1849 until her death. We children heard its story many a time and speculated and dreamed over its contents, as we sat on it to study our lessons or eat our bed-time snacks.