Ok, so I found a passage in Anne of the Island that sums up my philosophy. Or rather, what I was trying to say one day in JCQ and didnt quite succeed to my ambitions...
(And for what it's worth -- there's going to be a ton of Anne-quotes at various points when I feel they are needed, hehe...)
"I hope no great sorrow ever will come to you, Anne," said Gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid, joyous creature beside him, unwitting that those who can soar to the highest heights can also plunge to the deepest depths, and that the natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply.
"But there must -- sometime," mused Anne. "Life seems like a cup of glory held to my lips just now. But there must be some bitterness in it -- there is in every cup. I shall taste mine one day. Well, I hope I shall be strong and brave to meet it. And I hope it won't be through my own fault that it will come. Do you remember what Dr. Davis said last Sunday evening -- that the sorrows God sent us brought comfort and strength with them, while the sorrows we brought on ourselves, through folly or wickedness, were by far the hardest to bear? But we musn't talk of sorrow on an afternoon like this. It's meant for the sheer joy of living, isn't it?"
"If I had my way I'd shut everything out of your life but happiness and pleasure, Anne," said Gilbert in the tone that meant 'danger ahead.'
"Then you'd be very unwise," rejoined Anne hastily. "I'm sure no life can be properly developed and rounded out without some trial and sorrow -- though I suppose it is only when we are pretty comfortable that we admit it. ... "
A Word's Worth originally started as more a holding-place for memorable quotes (books, movies, conversations), with random musings about books or movies. Evolving into a truer book blog, it now features reviews and reading-related posts. Also featured are writings that the blogger finds relevant, creative, interesting, or simply decides to post.
9.18.2004
9.17.2004
*happy sigh*
I dont care what anyone says -- the Anne books are the world's best comfort read!
"Isn't it beautiful to think how everything has turned out ... how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?"
"Yes, it's beautiful," said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne's uplifted face, "but wouldn't it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been no separation or misunderstanding ... if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?"
For a moment Anne's heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert's gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her a view of a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; perhaps ... perhaps ... love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.
Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness.
Anne of Avonlea
L.M. Montgomery
"Isn't it beautiful to think how everything has turned out ... how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?"
"Yes, it's beautiful," said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne's uplifted face, "but wouldn't it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been no separation or misunderstanding ... if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?"
For a moment Anne's heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert's gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her a view of a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; perhaps ... perhaps ... love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.
Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness.
Anne of Avonlea
L.M. Montgomery
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