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Quote by L.M. Montgomery

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The Blythes Are Quoted

This novel, set against the backdrop of the 1940s, delves into the lives of the Blythe family, showcasing their interactions and the evolving relationships among its members. The narrative intertwines elements of youthful rebellion with the broader social and political context of the era, offering a nuanced portrayal of family life and personal growth. more

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L.M. Montgomery

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“He reaches out and lays a hand gently on my shoulder. ‘You were always a good pal, Tom.’ ‘Yeah, well. Right back atcha.’ I give Mike’s knee a friendly squeeze, then turn my head towards him, and he looks so intensely grateful for the compliment I’ve just paid him that my heart almost breaks. But I’m happy, too – happy beyond measure, really – and as we sit side by side, staring out at the glowing Milky Way, I’m filled with a sense of companionship that’s been missing from my life for so long that it feels almost alien to me.”

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“Before too long, the bottle of whisky lies empty on the grass in front of us and Mike appears to have talked himself out. In the silence that follows, Mike begins hiccupping with the most intense seriousness and mental concentration, and I realise that he’s thoroughly, disgracefully drunk. ‘Come on,’ I say, helping him to his feet. ‘I think we’ve had enough excitement for one evening.’ I manage to get him up, but then he sways up against the castle wall, and does not seem keen to move. ‘D’you think, perchance, we could call a taxi?’ ‘We’re half a mile from any road, Mike. Come on. Get moving.’ ‘A horse!’ Mike shouts. ‘My kingdom for a horse.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ I say. ‘Come along now. Here’s my arm. Got my arm? Got it?’ ‘Or a donkey,’ Mike says. ‘My kingdom for a donkey.’ ‘Oh, come on,’ I say. ‘Grab my arm.’ ‘Arm of the law!’ Mike shouts. ‘Quite right, Colonel. Hup. two three four. And March!’ But Mike, in spite of saying this, does not himself march. ‘D’you think February can March?’ he asks, turning to me. ‘I don’t know, but I think April May.’ He follows this with a snort of laughter so violent that it propels him away from the wall. I catch him and, taking advantage of the forward momentum, begin the journey homewards. ‘My kingdom,’ Mike says, returning to his earlier point. ‘Wouldn’t get much for it now, state the country’s in.’ ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Good point.’ ‘Tories,’ Mike says. ‘String ‘em up.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ I say, soothingly. ‘Tories.’ ‘Bunch of crim’nals,’ Mike says, misanthropically. ‘String ‘em all up.’ And with that, he drops his head and is silent for the remainder of the journey.”

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“But in all fairness, when I first met you, I thought you were-" "A dried-up old stick of a Cassiline Brother," he finished, shooting me an amused glance. "I remember. I remember it very well." "No." I gave his hair a sharp tug and smiled at him. "That was before I met you. Once I did, I thought you were a smug, self-satisfied young prig of a Cassiline Brother." He laughed at that, a real laugh. "You were right. I was." "No, I was wrong. The man I thought you were would have given up and died of humiliation in Gunter's kennels. You kept fighting, and stayed true to yourself.”

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