"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."
~ L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
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