Anne of Green Gables
V. Anne's History
"Do you know," said Anne confidentially, "I've made up my mind to enjoy this drive. It's
been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind
firmly that you will. Of course, you must make it up FIRMLY. I am not going to think
about going back to the asylum while we're having our drive. I'm just going to think
about the drive. Oh, look, there's one little early wild rose out! Isn't it lovely? Don't you
think it must be glad to be a rose? Wouldn't it be nice if roses could talk? I'm sure they
could tell us such lovely things. And isn't pink the most bewitching color in the world? I
love it, but I can't wear it. Redheaded people can't wear pink, not even in imagination.
Did you ever know of anybody whose hair was red when she was young, but got to be
another color when she grew up?"
"No, I don't know as I ever did," said Marilla mercilessly, "and I shouldn't think it likely to
happen in your case either."
"Well, that is another hope gone. `My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.' That's
a sentence I read in a book once, and I say it over to comfort myself whenever I'm
disappointed in anything."
"I don't see where the comforting comes in myself," said Marilla.
"Why, because it sounds so nice and romantic, just as if I were a heroine in a book, you
know. I am so fond of romantic things, and a graveyard full of buried hopes is about as
romantic a thing as one can imagine isn't it? I'm rather glad I have one. Are we going
across the Lake of Shining Waters today?"
"We're not going over Barry's pond, if that's what you mean by your Lake of Shining
Waters. We're going by the shore road."
"Shore road sounds nice," said Anne dreamily. "Is it as nice as it sounds? Just when
you said `shore road' I saw it in a picture in my mind, as quick as that! And White Sands
is a pretty name, too; but I don't like it as well as Avonlea. Avonlea is a lovely name. It
just sounds like music. How far is it to White Sands?"
"It's five miles; and as you're evidently bent on talking you might as well talk to some
purpose by telling me what you know about yourself."
"Oh, what I KNOW about myself isn't really worth telling," said Anne eagerly. "If you'll
only let me tell you what I IMAGINE about myself you'll think it ever so much more