I came across a really sweet Susanism while reading some Rilla last week, it just reminded me why I love he so much. So I thought I would share it...

" 'And now,' concluded Susan, tucking Jims in the crook of her gaunt arms and marching downstairs, 'having cried my cry and said my say I shall take a brace, and if I cannot look pleasant I will look as pleasant as I can.' " pg. 121- Until the day break-ROI- L.M. Montgomery

Aww... I'd be interested in hearing some of your favorite passages from any L.M.M. stuff; if you have any.

4 Responses
  1. Elouise82 Says:

    That is sweet. One of my favorites is from Prissy Grant: "You remember that he said in his address, 'There is so much in the world for us all if we only have the eyes to see it, and the heart to love it, and the hand to gather it to ourselves--so much in men and women, so much in art and literature, so much everywhere in which to delight, and for which to be thankful.' I think that is what Redmond has taught me in some measure, Anne." (AotI, Full-Fledged B.A.'s, pg 217). Isn't that a great lesson to learn from college?

  2. I've been rereading "Anne of Green Gables," and I sometimes only remember Anne the wife, mother, grandmother, and young woman. Here's something sweet and funny from when she was just a girl, learning to pray with Marilla.

    "You're old enough to pray for yourself, Anne," she said
    finally. "Just thank God for your blessings and ask Him
    humbly for the things you want."

    "Well, I'll do my best," promised Anne, burying her face
    in Marilla's lap. "Gracious heavenly Father--that's the
    way the ministers say it in church, so I suppose it's all
    right in private prayer, isn't it?" she interjected, lifting her head for a moment.

    "Gracious heavenly Father, I thank Thee for the White Way of Delight and the Lake of Shining Waters and Bonny and the Snow Queen. I'm really extremely grateful for them. And that's all the blessings I can think of just now to thank Thee for. As for the things I want, they're so numerous that it would take a great deal of time to name them all so I will only mention the two most important. Please let me stay at Green Gables; and please let me be good-looking when I grow up.
    I remain,
    "Yours respectfully,

    Anne Shirley.

  3. geeruby Says:

    "Dear old Jane is a jewel," agreed Anne, "but," she added, leaning forward to bestow a tender pat on the plump, dimpled little hand hanging over her pillow, "there's nobody like my own Diana after all. Do you remember that evening we first met, Diana, and `swore' eternal friendship in your garden? We've kept that `oath,' I think. . .we've never had a quarrel nor even a coolness. I shall never forget the thrill that went over me the day you told me you loved me. I had had such a lonely, starved heart all through my childhood. I'm just beginning to realize how starved and lonely it really was. Nobody cared anything for me or wanted to be bothered with me. I should have been miserable if it hadn't been for that strange little dream-life of mine, wherein I imagined all the friends and love I craved. But when I came to Green Gables everything was changed. And then I met you. You don't know what your friendship meant to me. I want to thank you here and now, dear, for the warm and true affection you've always given me."

    "And always, always will," sobbed Diana. "I shall never love anybody . . .any girl. . .half as well as I love you. And if I ever do marry and have a little girl of my own I'm going to name her Anne."

    I read this when I was about eight and decided then and there that if I ever had a little girl, I would call her Anne, too.

    Of course I love the end of Anne of the Island, when Anne tells Gilbert, "I don't want sunbursts and marble halls...I just want YOU" but I think the ending of Mistress Pat is especially sweet, if not sweeter:

    Hilary had taken a cheap crumpled envelope from his pocket book and extracted a sheet of bluelined paper.

    "Dear Jingle," Judy had printed on it in faint, straggling letters, "She has give David Kirk the air. I'm thinking youd have a good chance if youd come back.

    Judy Plum."

    "Dear, dear old Judy," said Pat. "She must have written that on her dying bed . . . look how feeble some of the letters are . . . and got somebody to smuggle it out to the mail-box for her."

    "Judy knew that would bring me back from the dead," said Hilary with pardonable exaggeration. "She died knowing it. And, Pat," he added quickly, sensing that she was too near tears for a betrothal hour, "will you make soup for me like Judy's when we're married?"

    Just as they had admitted they must really return to Swallowfield a grey shadow leaped over the paling, poised for a moment on Judy's slab and then skimmed away.

    "Oh, there's Bold-and-Bad," cried Pat. "I must catch him and take him back. He's too old to be left out o'nights."

    "This evening belongs to me," said Hilary firmly. "I won't let you go chasing cats . . . not even Bold-and-Bad. He'll follow us back without any chasing. I've found something I once thought I'd lost forever and I won't be cheated out of a single moment."

    The old graveyard heard the most charming sound in the world . . . the low yielding laugh of a girl held prisoner by her lover.

  4. geeruby Says:

    I want to say also that the ending of Mistress Pat definitely inspired the way I wrote the ending for my Cecilia of Red Apple Farm. I wanted it to be just as sweet.