Lucy Maud Montgomery, age 22

Monday, Jan. 18, 1897, Belmont, P.E.I.

“Yesterday was a dream – a poem – a symphony – a what you will so that your definition expresses the ethereal revel of colour, the thrilling glory and splendor of the wonderful day that came in roseate and golden across frost-rimmed hill and crept away at night in an elf-land of moonlight.”

The conclusion to the same journal entry…

Today it poured rain all day and things were on a rampage of disagreeableness.

From the Complete Journals of L.M. Montgomery  The P.E.I. Years, 1889-1900, Rubio & Waterston, Oxford University Press, 2012

In the book’s forword, Michael Bliss writes, “On every page the sharp twin edges of intelligence and abnormally acute senses make their impress,” “an almost unequalled account of the imagination working.”




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I cannot remember the time when I was not writing, or when I did not mean to be an author image


~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

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