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L.M. Montgomery

It was November–the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul. ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables. (Signet May 6,… Continue reading L.M. Montgomery

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