I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.
Interpretation
This quote expresses the beauty of cherished memories that bring joy and comfort.
Lucy Maud Montgomery's quote reflects on the sweetness and fragrance of past memories, symbolized by roses found in a book. The imagery suggests that revisiting these memories can evoke feelings of happiness and warmth, serving as a reminder of the beauty that once was and still lingers in our hearts.
In practice
Using this quote during a speech about the importance of preserving family traditions.
A broken heart in real life isn't half as dreadful as it is in books. It's a good deal like a bad tooth, though you won't think THAT a very romantic simile. It takes spells of aching and gives you a sleepless night now and then, but between times it lets you enjoy life and dreams and echoes and peanut candy as if there were nothing the matter with it.
A house isn't a home without the ineffable contentment of a cat with its tail folded about its feet. A cat gives mystery, charm, suggestion.
Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!" (Anne to Gilbert)
Youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.
I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.
She had dreamed some brilliant dreams during the past winter and now they lay in the dust around her. In her present mood of self-disgust, she could not immediately begin dreaming again. And she discovered that, while solitude with dreams is glorious, solitude without them has few charms.
When I was young, we always had mornings like this.
I am suddenly comsumed by nostalgia for the little girl who was me, who loved the fields and believed in God, who spent winter days home sick from school reading Nancy Drew and sucking menthol cough drops, who could keep a secret.
When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, "What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?" "They are the days of a long time ago, Laura," Pa said. "Go to sleep, now." But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods,β¦ She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.
Into my hear an air that kills through yon far country blows what are those blue remembered hills what spires,what farms are those? that is the land of lost content I can see it shining plain the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
There is a town in north Ontario,_x000D_ _x000D_ With dream comfort memory to spare,_x000D_ _x000D_ And in my mind_x000D_ _x000D_ I still need a place to go,_x000D_ _x000D_ All my changes were there._x000D_ _x000D_ _x000D_ Blue, blue windows behind the stars,_x000D_ _x000D_ Yellow moon on the rise,_x000D_ _x000D_ Big birds flying across the sky,_x000D_ _x000D_ Throwing shadows on our eyes.
While Pickstown may not be what it once was, it still is framed by the natural beauty of the ancient river, the sweep of the Great Plains, and the long, unbroken shoreline of the lake behind the dam. It gave me a 19th-century childhood in a modern mid-20th-century town, and for that I will always be grateful.
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