Quotes About Reflection

I think, if ever any great sorrow came to me, I would come to the pines for comfort," said Anne dreamily.

Where is my conscience, Anne? I want to know. Is it in my stomach?

Oh, don't you see, Marilla? There must be a limit to the mistakes one person can make, and when I get to the end of them, then I'll be through with them. That's a very comforting thought.

Leaving this Parthian shaft to rankle in Anne's stormy bosom, Marilla descended to the kitchen, grievously troubled in mind and vexed in soul.

Tenía la incómoda sensación de que era algo pecaminoso entregar el corazón con tanta intensidad a una criatura humana y quizá se había sometido a una especie de penitencia inconsciente siendo más estricta y crítica con aquella niña.

I was very sorry that i had been in a temper --- but I was sorry because it was foolish and undignified, not because it was wicked.

DeÄŸerli ÅŸeyler çoÄŸu zaman biraz s?k?nt?l?d?r.

I have an ideal Sunday in my mind. Only, I am such a coward that I cannot translate it into the real, but must drift on with the current of conventionality. But I would like to go away on Sunday morning to the heart of some great solemn wood and sit down among the ferns with only the companionship of the trees and the wood-winds echoing through the dim, moss-hung aisles like the strains of some vast cathedral anthem. And I would stay there for hours alone with nature and my own soul.

I know that into everybody's life must come some days of depression and discouragement when all things in life seem to lose savor. The sunniest day has its clouds; but one must not forget that the sun is there all the time. How easy it is to be a philosopher - on paper! (Item: - If you are out in a cold, pouring rain, does it keep you dry to remember that the sun is there just the same?) Well, thank heaven no two days are ever exactly alike!

Art?k anlamaya baÅŸlad?m, büyümenin en kötü taraf? bu. Çocukken çok istediÄŸin ÅŸeyler, onlara ulaÅŸt???n zaman o kadar da harika görünmüyor.

Grief is ever proud.

of a cross-marked grave somewhere in France. But tonight it was only a shadow Ã¢â'¬Â¦ nothing more.

What was Latin and the chance of tattooing compared to this?

Do you know, that is a question I often ask myself—If I could would I go back to my old self? —and I can never answer it. I can never dare to say either no or yes. The fruit of the tree of knowledge may leave a bitter taste in the eater's mouth, but there is something in its flavor that can never be forgotten or counterfeited.

But agony is nonetheless real because in later years when we have learned that everything passes, we wonder what we agonized about.

Even although we meet as strangers now I still love her with an INEXTINGUISHABLE love. It makes me very sad at times to think about her. But really, Marilla, one can't stay sad very long in such an interesting world, can one?

Sometimes I feel as if those exams meant everything, but when I look at the big buds swelling on those chestnut trees and the misty blue air... They don't seem half so important

Life would be dull if we hadn't a few tragedies to look back on.

And the awful joy of dreaming that he was young again, with unspoiled life before him, was so great and compelling that it counterbalanced the agony in the realization of a dishonoured old age, following years in which he had squandered the wealth of his soul in ways where Wisdom lifted not her voice.

if I wasn't ME who'd I be?

I'm just tired of everything . . . even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes . . . echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking.

It was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back the clouds of the golden west between its softly dark shores.

Güzel, hoÅŸ ÅŸeyler düÅŸünmek ve deÄŸerli hazineler gibi onlar? kalbinde saklamak daha iyi. DüÅŸüncelerime gülünmesinden veya hayret edilmesinden hoÅŸlanm?yorum.

But finally the day began to realize that she was growing old. Then a sort of pensiveness fell over her which dimmed yet intensified it; sharp angles, glittering points, melted away into curves and enticing gleams. The white harbour put on soft grays and pinks; the far-away hills turned amethyst.