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Anne Quotes

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Anne Quotes

“Anne, look here. Can’t we be good friends?” For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd, newly awakened consciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expression in Gilbert’s hazel eyes was something that was very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance promptly stiffened up her wavering determination. That scene of two years before flashed back into her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. Gilbert had called her “carrots” and had brought about her disdain before the whole school. Her resentment, which to other and older people might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by time seemingly. She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him!”

“I did make a mistake in judging Anne, but it weren't no wonder, for an odder, unexpecteder witch of a child there never was in this world, that's what. There was no ciphering her out by the rules that worked with other children. It's nothing short of wonderful how she's improved these three years, but especially in looks. She's a real pretty girl got to be, though I can't say I'm overly partial to that pale, big-eyed style myself. I like more snap and color, like Diana Barry or Ruby Gillis. Ruby Gillis' looks are real showy. But somehow- I don't know how it is but when Anne and them are together, though she ain't half as handsome, she makes them look kind of common and overdone- something like them white June lilies she calls narcissus alongside of the big, red peonies, that's what.”

“See . . . um . . . the thing is, I met with Lisa a few days ago. She wanted to apologize for . . . Halloween, and not calling . . . Thing is, her previous story . . . um . . . She wanted me to read it. She . . . wanted to explain her issues. She was jealous . . . of you and me becoming friends and . . . kinda lost it, I guess. My point is, um . . . she used the story to put it into words . . . I think she is writing messages. . . to you.”

“I might have known. Nobody ever does want me. I might have known. It was too good to be true. Dreams never last,” I sniffed, “I should have known that even you wouldn’t want me.” I plopped down on a nearby bench and tried to swallow my sobs. Matthew and Marilla glanced at each other confused. Oh, why did I always let my hopes run away with me? Nothing would ever change. Who would ever want a homely, emotional, sixteen year old?”

“If you feel like you don't fit into the world you inherited it is because you were born to help create a new one.”

“To completely understand me you must first accept that I am not you.”

“My dream is to create something so beautiful that it encourages people to present the best version of themselves to me everywhere I go.”

“Every decision you make in life will stem from one of two options: love or fear. Choose love.”

“Eternity will not cause our memories to fade, it will force our hearts to accept the past.”

“To struggle against the weight of sleep as reality eclipses the moon of your dreams is the purest sign of true love.”

“Cherish your existence, for memories become legacies and life can change in an instant.”

“Try to think of it as though we are rewriting history––the first time this experience occurred you and I never kissed in this Dream Machine room. But now when we leave here, and open our eyes again near the wall around the center of Constance, that kiss will be included in our memories of the day we first met. We could spend a lifetime recreating this moment here, meanwhile, not a single second of our lives would slip by back in our reality. Time seems to move differently inside of our memories.”

“As her feet beat the concrete ground beneath them, her chest began to ache. It had been a long time since she had run at a full sprint. She was, quite literally, running for her life, and leaving everything she had known before behind. Regardless of her past experiences, here she was, blindly following a girl, who was virtually a stranger, because she had promised to lead Eleanor to safety.”

“Eleanor had heard talk of the rebellion that existed inside the city of Constance before. Most of the information she gathered was considered an old fairy tale by the general public. There were a few stories here and there about people angered by their present living conditions, who had demanded that the center of Constance be held responsible for it. However, information was never passed between the five different sectors. Over the years the tales of the rebellion had become children’s bedtime stories, and people did not take them seriously.”

“Here we go,” Phoenix said, turning back to Nora. “Try not to let this room scare you.”

“Daniel chuckled. Whoever that poor girl was, he hoped his family was paying her well. And then, finally, she lifted her fingers from the keys as Daisy began her painful violin solo. He watched her exhale, stretching her fingers, and then . . . She looked up. Time stopped. It simply stopped. It was the most maudlin and clichéd way of describing it, but those few seconds when her face was lifted toward his . . . they stretched and pulled, melting into eternity. She was beautiful. But that didn’t explain it. He’d seen beautiful women before. He’d slept with plenty of them, even. But this . . . Her . . . She . . . Even his thoughts were tongue-tied.”

“Then, with a cheeky quirk of his brows, he leaned forward and murmured, “Would it be improper of me to admit that I am inordinately flattered by your attention to the details of my face?” Anne snorted out a laugh. “Improper and ludicrous.” “It is true that I have never felt quite so colorful,” he said, with a clearly feigned sigh. “You are a veritable rainbow,” she agreed. “I see red and . . . well, no orange and yellow, but certainly green and blue and violet.” “You forgot indigo.” “I did not,” she said, with her very best governess voice. “I have always found it to be a foolish addition to the spectrum. Have you ever actually seen a rainbow?” “Once or twice,” he replied, looking rather amused by her rant.”

“Finally, he reached his street. It was quiet, blessedly so, and the only sound was his own groan as he lifted his foot to the first stone step at the entrance to Winstead House. The only sound, that was, until someone whispered his name. He froze. “Anne?” A figure stepped out of the shadows, trembling in the night. “Daniel,” she said again, and if she said anything more, he did not hear it. He was down the stairs in an instant, and she was in his arms, and for the first time in nearly a week, the world felt steady on its axis.”

“This has been a perfect day," Anne said quietly. "Almost," Daniel whispered, and then she was in his arms again. He kissed her, but it was different this time. Less urgent. Less fiery. The touch of their lips was achingly soft, and maybe it didn't make her feel crazed, like she wanted to press herself against him and take him within her. Maybe instead he made her feel weightless, as if she could take his hand and float away, just as long as he never stopped kissing her. Her entire body tingled, and she stood on her tiptoes, almost waiting for the moment she left the ground. And then he broke the kiss, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. "There," he said, cradling her face in his hands. "Now it's a perfect day.”

“… Birden ürperdi, şalına sarıldı. İnsan, annesinin öldüğü gece de üşüyordu. Artık birlikte üşüyemeyeceklerdi. Annesinin oturduğu koltukta sanki kocaman bir delik vardı artık. Sanki bir duvar yıkılmıştı: Gerisinde bu büyük ve karanlık ve ürkütücü boşluğun bulunduğu bir duvar. Bu duvar korumuştu onu yıllarca karanlıktan. Artık bir şey görmek mümkün değildi. Artık onu hiç kimse anlamayacaktı. Artık onunla rahatça alay edeceklerdi. Artık ona daha kolayca saldırabileceklerdi. Artık onu ezip geçebileceklerdi. Artık onun başına gelen haksızlıklara sessizce karşı çıkan tek varlık yok olup gittiği için (bunu düşünmek ne kadar günah da olsa evet yok olup gittiği için) onu dinleyemeyeceklerdi. Kelimeleri bulmakta zorluk çektiği zaman, içlerinden istihzayla gülümseyeceklerdi. Hem küçümseyeceklerdi, hem acıyacaklardı artık. Zavallı kız, diyeceklerdi; bir yandan da onun yanından kaçmak, onunla birlikte olmamak için can atacaklardı. Hayır, önce acıyacaklardı ve bu acımaları yüzünden onun daha küçülmesini, daha zavallılaşmasını bekleyeceklerdi. Çünkü, şiddeti artırmayan bir zavallılıktan çabuk usanılırdı; böyle bir insanın sağladığı heyecan, kısa bir süre sonra sönerdi. İnsan, kendisine acındıkça alçalmalıydı. Üstelik Sevgi’nin, bir de başını dik tutmaya çalıştığını görünce, omuzlarını silkerek uzaklaşacaklardı. Öksüz kalmak, işte bu demekti…”

“- Anne… Geçmişten ne kurtulabiliyorum ne de geriye dönebiliyorum. Anlamsızlıklar çarmıhına gerilmişim ve avuçlarıma kaygılar saplanmış sanki… Üstüne örttükleri şu soğuk ve kahverengi battaniyede bana da yer var mı? Keşke yeniden yol göstersen bana. Şimdi tüm yollar aşılması güç, dağlık ve tepeliklerle dolu. Ellerin saçımdayken okuduğun umut dolu masallar yer altı karanlığına gömüldüler. Masal kahramanları ise birer birer canlarına kıydı…”

“They all turned to the dark-haired woman standing quietly to the side and slightly behind Aunt Charlotte. She was, in a word, gorgeous. Everything about her was perfection, from her shiny hair to her milky-white skin. Her face was heart-shaped, her lips full and pink, and her eyelashes were so long that Honoria thought they must touch her brows if she opened her eyes too wide. “Well,” Honoria murmured to Iris, “at least no one will be looking at us.”

“...Ruhbilimci Jacques Mehler bu tekniği uygulayarak yirmi yıl önce 3-4 günlük bir bebeğin kendisine yabancı olan iki kadının sesini birbirinden ayırmayı başaramadığını göstermiştir. Buna karşılık, annesinin sesi ile çocuğuyla konuşan bir başka kadının sesi arasındaki ayrımı fark eder. Dahası bu çok küçük yaşta bebek, anadilini tanır.”