Anne of Ingleside

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Anne of Ingleside is a novel written by Lucy Maud Montgomery in 1939.


  • There's really no fun in being sensible all the time, Diana.
    • Ch. 1
  • Don't grudge Anne Cordelia her fancies, Diana. I'm always sorry for children who don't spend a few years in fairyland.
    • Ch. 2
  • "Such a lovely day... made for us," said Diana. "I'm afraid it's a pet day though... there'll be rain tomorrow."
"Never mind. We'll drink its beauty today, even if its sunshine is gone tomorrow. We'll enjoy each other's friendship today even if we are to be parted tomorrow. Look at those long, golden-green hills... those mist-blue valleys. They're ours, Diana... I don't care if that furthest hill is registered in Abner Sloan's name... it's ours today. There's a west wind blowing... I always feel adventurous when a west wind blows... and we're going to have a perfect ramble."
  • Ch. 2
  • "Such a nice swishy petticoat," sighed Nan. "When I grow up will I have tafty petticoats like that, Mummy?"
"I doubt if girls will be wearing petticoats at all by that time," said Dad. "I'll back water, Anne, and admit that dress is a stunner even if I didn't approve of the sequins. Now, don't try to vamp me, woman. I've paid you all the compliments I'm going to tonight. Remember what we read in the Medical Journal today... 'Life is nothing more than delicately balanced organic chemistry,' and let it make you humble and modest. Sequins, indeed! Taffeta petticoat, forsooth. We're nothing but 'a fortuitous concatenation of atoms.' The great Dr. Von Bemburg says so."
"Don't quote that horrible Von Bemburg to me. He must have a bad case of chronic indigestion. He may be a concatenation of atoms, but I am not."
  • Ch. 25
  • "Not even a husband's funeral could damp Clarice down long," said Agatha Drew. "There was nothing solid about her. Always dancing and singing."
"I used to dance and sing... on the shore, where nobody heard me," said Myra Murray.
"Ah, but you've grown wiser since then," said Agatha.
"No-o-o, foolisher," said Myra Murray slowly. "Too foolish now to dance along the shore."
  • Ch. 32
  • Of course it sounds very foolish. Dreams do sound so foolish when they are put into cold brutal words.
    • Ch. 35

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