Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes

Everybody goes through obstacles and problems and issues and turn their backs on people that we are fond of and love just because we hurt; and everybody goes through that.

I have no trouble with y enemies. But my god damn friends... they are the ones that keep me walking the floors at night.

Knowing that you're the one who's been rejected, God it makes you feel isolated. I defy anybody not to be a bit upset. I felt as though I'd walked into the house trailing all this baggage.

When I'm lonely, frustrated or hurt it usually comes from a male person and from unrequited love. I often carry that pain around with me and my ribs actually start to ache. That's when I sit down and write.

I've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.

I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in- and I am sure my dinners are good enough for her, since she is an unmarried woman of seven-and-twenty, and as such should expect little more than a crust of bread washed down with a cup of loneliness.

There was a dull pang of regret because it was not the kiss of love which had inflamed her, because it was not love which had held this cup of life to her lips.

Mort was hurt by this. It was one thing not to want to marry someone, but quite another to be told they didn't want to marry you.

The first morning after Westley's departure, Buttercup thought she was entitled to do nothing more than sit around moping and feeling sorry for herself. After all, the love of her life had fled, life had no meaning, how could you face the future, et cetera, et cetera.

Love isn't always pretty. Sometimes you spend all your time hoping it'll eventually be something different. Something better. Then, before you know it, you're back to square one, and you lost your heart somewhere along the way.

In the town of broken dreams the streets are filled with regret, maybe down in lonesome town I can learn to forget.

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning, but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.

Hope hurt more than the cold.

All the little emptiness of love!

How sad it was, Carmen thought, that you acted awful when you were desperately sad and hurt and wanted to be loved. How tragic then, the way everyone avoided you and tiptoed around you when you really needed them. Carmen knew this vicious predicament as well as anyone in the world. How bitter it felt when you acted badly to everyone and ended up hating yourself the most.

It would take more than long-stemmed roses to change my view that you're a despicable cowardy custard and a disgrace to a proud family. Your ancestors fought in the Crusades and were often mentioned in despatches, and you cringe like a salted snail at the thought of appearing as Santa Claus before an audience of charming children who wouldn't hurt a fly. It's enough to make an aunt turn her face to the wall and give up the struggle.

I'll think about something else. I'll just sit quietly. If I could sit still. If I could sit still, maybe I could read. Oh, all the books are about people who love each other, truly and sweetly. What do they want to write about that for? Don't they know it isn't true? Don't they know it's a lie, it's a God-damned lie? What do they have to tell about that for, when they know how it hurts?

your letters got sadder. your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. it didn't help. you said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over the river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you.

I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company.

When you don't have love, it's like there's a party going on, and everybody was invited, except for you. And you just happened to be walking by that house in the rain...

When your hero falls from grace, all fairy tales are uncovered Myth exposed and pain magnified, the grace pays uncovered He told me to be strong, but I confused to see it so weak You say never to give up, and it hurts to see what comes to be When your hero falls soley the stars, and so does the reception of tomorrow Without my hero, theres only me alone, to deal with my sorrow Your heart ceases to work, and your soul is not happy at all What are you expected to do, when your only hero falls

After the pain of this disappointment her heart once more stood empty, and the succession of identical days began again.

All shall love me and despair.