Despair Is A Free Man--hope Is A

Being Frightened Of Things Is Worse Than The Things Themselves.

A Good Laugh Is As Good As A Prayer Sometimes.

It Was November--the Month Of Crimson Sunsets, Parting Birds, Deep, Sad Hymns Of The Sea, Passionate Wind-songs In The Pines. Anne Roamed Through The Pineland Alleys In The Park And, As She Said, Let That Great Sweeping Wind Blow The Fogs Out Of Her Soul.

…always Felt The Pain Of Her Friends So Keenly That She Could Not Speak Easy, Fluent Words Of Comforting. Besides, She Remembered How Well-meant Speeches Had Hurt Her In Her Own Sorrow And Was Afraid.

Gilbert, I'm Afraid I'm Scandalously In Love With You.