valentine's day

Here are a series of quotes from my favorite romantic author, L.M. Montgomery  (1874-1942)

- on love and all things lovely:

"You were never poor as long as you had something to love."

"Isn’t it lucky love doesn’t make a letter weigh any heavier? If it did this letter would be so heavy I couldn’t afford the postage."

"Sometimes I thought I had dreamed you—only," he added under his breath and unheard by her, "I could never have dreamed anything half so lovely.""

""Dear old world," she murmured, "you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.""

"How dear the woods are! You beautiful trees! I love every one of you as a friend.""

""I just want to drink the day's loveliness in . . . I feel as if she were holding it out to my lips like a cup of airy wine and I'll take a sip at every step.""

""Living so that you beautify your name, even if it wasn't beautiful to begin with . . . making it stand in people's thoughts for something so lovely and pleasant that they never think of it by itself. Thank you, Diana.""

"Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath."

""Love you! Girl, you're in the very core of my heart. I hold you there like a jewel. Didn't I promise you I'd never tell you a lie? Love you! I love you with all there is of me to love. Heart, soul, brain. Every fibre of body and spirit thrilling to the sweetness of you. There's nobody in the world for me but you, Valancy.""

"'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.'"

"Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer."

"Though this won't be a love-letter. I have a scratchy pen and I can't write love-letters with a scratchy pen . . . or a sharp pen . . . or a stub pen. So you'll only get that kind of letter from me when I have exactly the right kind of pen."

"You are the only person who loves me in the world,' said Elizabeth. 'When you talk to me I smell violets.'"

"You were never poor as long as you had something to love."

"Yes—love triumphant and perfect. Leslie, you know—you understand. I have loved you from the first. And I KNOW you love me—I don't need to ask you. But I want to hear you say it—my darling—my darling!""

"For a time she thought of all the old loved things behind her and then her thoughts ran ahead of her to the loved things before her."

""Darling, you're terribly mistaken about it all. God doesn't make bargains. He gives . . . gives without asking anything from us in return except love. When you ask Father or me for something you want, we don't make bargains with you . . . and God is ever and ever so much kinder than we are. And He knows so much better than we do what is good to give.""

"She had nothing to love, and that is about as unwholesome a condition as is possible to anyone."

"anything is blessed which comes through the medium of unselfish love"

"We thought we had loved each other before; now, as I looked into my wife's pale face, blanched with its baptism of pain, and met the uplifted gaze of her blue eyes, aglow with the holy passion of motherhood, I knew we had only imagined what love might be."

"that nothing matters in all God's universe, except love."

"I used to think if I loved anybody I would want him to do everything for me and wait on me as if I were a princess. But that is not the way at all. Love makes you very humble and you want to do everything yourself for the one you love."

"How I loved her! How happy we were! But he who accepts human love must bind it to his soul with pain, and she is not lost to me."

"She loved to name things. It made them just like people … people you loved."

"Pat loved the sound of “a day to spend.” It sounded so gloriously lavish to “spend” a whole day, letting its moments slip one by one through your fingers like beads of gold."

"“And I’m not even clever, Judy. I can only love people … and things.”"

"But Emily had inherited certain things from her fine old ancestors — the power to fight — to suffer, — to pity — to love very deeply — to rejoice — to endure. These things were all in her and looked out at you through her purplish-grey eyes. Her heritage of endurance came to her aid now and bore her up."

"Oh, how she loved him! There was no other Father like him in all the world — there never could have been — so tender, so understanding, so wonderful! They had always been such chums — they had loved each other so much — it couldn’t be that they were to be separated."

"everything we had was small except our love and our happiness —"

"But all at once she found that she wasn’t afraid any longer — and the bitterness had gone out of her sorrow, and the unbearable pain out of her heart. She felt as if love was all about her and around her, breathed out from some great, invisible, hovering Tenderness. One couldn’t be afraid or bitter where love was — and love was everywhere."

"“She will love deeply — she will suffer terribly — she will have glorious moments to compensate — as I have had. As her mother’s people deal with her, so may God deal with them,” he murmured brokenly."

"Lovely thoughts came flying to meet me like birds. They weren’t my thoughts. I couldn’t think anything half so exquisite. They came from somewhere."

"Success — power — fame. Let those who cared for them pay the price and take them. But love is not bought and sold. It is a gift."

"The moment when a woman realises that she has nothing to live for—neither love, duty, purpose nor hope—holds for her the bitterness of death. "And I just have to go on living because I can't stop. I may have to live eighty years," thought Valancy, in a kind of panic. "We're all horribly long-lived. It sickens me to think of it.""

Yeran Terzian