I had a dove and the sweet dove died; / And I have thought it died of grieving: / O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied, / With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving; / Sweet little red feet! why should you die-- / Why should you leave me, sweet bird! why? / You liv'd alone in the forest-tree, / Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me? / I kiss'd you oft and gave you white peas; / Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?
“When you’ve suffered a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling.
~ Life of Pi, Yann Martel
“It was less humiliating to admit crying because of your feet than because—because somebody had been amusing himself with you and your friends had forgotten you, and other people patronised you.
~ Rilla of Ingleside, L.M. Montgomery
“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?
~ Anne of Avonlea, L.M. Montgomery
“The good is the beautiful.
~ Plato
“There’s such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I’m such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn’t be half so interesting.
~ Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery
“Few are my years, and yet I feel / The World was ne’er design’d for me: / Ah! why do darkening shades conceal / The hour when man must cease to be? / Once I beheld a splendid dream, / A visionary scene of bliss: / Truth!—wherefore did thy hated beam / Awake me to a world like this?
~ “I Would I Were a Careless Child,” Lord Byron
Few are my years, and yet I feel / The World was ne’er design’d for me: / Ah! why do darkening shades conceal / The hour when man must cease to be? / Once I beheld a splendid dream, / A visionary scene of bliss: / Truth!—wherefore did thy hated beam / Awake me to a world like this?
- “I Would I Were a Careless Child,” Lord Byron
“And I wanna grow old without the pain, / Give my body back to the earth and not complain.
~ “The Perfect Space,” The Avett Brothers
