What did Lucy Maud Montgomery mean by: Who would endure life if it were not for the hope of death? Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada Copy
+ You have the itch for writing born in you. It’s quite incurable. What are you going to do with it? Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Calling, Passion, Writing, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
+ Human nature is not obliged to be consistent. Author, September 8, 2023January 2, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Freedom, Human nature, Inconsistency, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
+ Because when you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worth while. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Imagination, Inspiration, Value, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
+ When one great passion seizes possession of the soul all other feelings are crowded out. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Emotion, Exclusivity, Passion, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
+ Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it. Author, November 6, 2023January 2, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Loss, Memory, Preservation, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
+ There are many worse friends than the soft, silent, furry, cat-folk. Author, January 13, 2024January 9, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Comfort, Companionship, Loyalty, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
+ You’ll never write anything that really satisfies you though it may satisfy other people. Author, January 14, 2024January 9, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Creativity, Satisfaction, Validation, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
+ I couldn’t live where there were no trees–something vital in me would starve. Author, January 14, 2024January 9, 2025, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Connection, Nature, Vitality, 0 Lucy Maud Montgomery Author · Canada
I only fear the death of others. For me, true death is that of the people I love Jean Cocteau Artist · France
Here I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live. Jean Cocteau Artist · France
We hope to grow old and we dread old age; that is to say, we love life and we flee from death. Read explanation Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Hatred is so lasting and stubborn, that reconciliation on a sickbed certainly forebodes death. Read explanation Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
