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Next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing.
— Lucy Maud Montgomery
writer, novelist, children's writer, poet, diarist, biographer, short story writer, journalist, teacher
1874 – 1942
Next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing.
In this world you've just got to hope for the best and prepare for the worst and take whatever God sends.
When I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does.
She found, however, that revenge hurts nobody quite so much as the one who tries to inflict it.
But feeling is so different from knowing. My common sense tells me all you can say, but there are times when common sense has no power over me. Common nonsense takes possession of my soul.
What a comfort one familiar face is in a howling wilderness of strangers!
"Why did you kill Maurice Lennox?" she asked reproachfully.
But she lay long awake that night, nor did she wish for sleep. Her waking fancies were more alluring than any vision of dreamland. Had the real Prince come at last? Recalling those glorious dark eyes which had gazed so deeply into her own, Anne was very strongly inclined to think he had.
And Gilbert was dying!
Gilbert was friendly—very friendly—far too friendly....But Anne no longer found it satisfying. The rose of love made the blossom of friendship pale and scentless by contrast.
A slender shapely young aspen rose up before them against the fine maize and emerald and paling rose of the western sky, which brought out every leaf and twig in dark, tremulous, elfin loveliness.
Life had taught her to be brave, to be patient, to love, to forgive.
Her confusion put him at ease and he forgot to be shy; besides, even the shyest of men can sometimes be quite audacious in moonlight.
It is never quite safe to think we have done with life. When we imagine we have finished our story fate has a trick of turning the page and showing us yet another chapter.
I like wind," he said. "A day when there is no wind seems to me dead. A windy day wakes me up." He gave a conscious laugh. "On a calm day I fall into day dreams. No doubt you know my reputation, Miss West. If I cut you dead the next time we meet don't put it down to bad manners. Please understand that it is only abstraction and forgive me—and speak to me.
We miss so much out of life if we don't love. The more we love the richer life is—even if it is only some little furry or feathery pet.
I remembered Elizabeth had never laughed once during our talk. I feel that she hasn't learned how. The great house is so still and lonely and laughterless. It looks dull and gloomy even now when the world is a riot of autumn color. Little Elizabeth is doing too much listening to lost whispers.
Be the day short or be the day long, at last it weareth to evening song.
They did not talk or want to talk. It was as if they were afraid to talk for fear of spoiling something beautiful. But Anne had never felt so near Katherine Brooke before. By some magic of its own the winter night had brought them together . . . almost together but not quite.
In this world you've just got to hope for the best and prepare for the worst and take whatever God sends.
In this world you've just got to hope for the best and prepare for the worst and take whatever God sends.
We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them forward into the future with us.
We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them forward into the future with us.
