After all, you couldn't go through life rolling your friendships into one gigantic snowball. You wanted different kinds of friendships, with different kinds of people.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

And yet, even as she spoke, she knew that she did not wish to come back. Not to stay, not to live. She loved the little yellow cottage more than she loved any place on earth. But she was through with it except in her memories.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

Betsy dreamed about going away from Deep Valley, but she didn't for a moment suspect that around a bend in her Winding Hall of Fate a journey was actually waiting.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

Betsy liked to read her stories aloud, and she read them like an actress. She made her voice low and thrillingly deep. She made it shake with emotion. Furthermore, she laughed mockingly and sobbed wildly when the occasion required.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

Betsy liked to talk. Her father always said she got it from her mother, and her mother always said she got it from her father. But whomever she got it from she was certainly a talker.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

Betsy returned to her chair, took off her coat and hat, opened her book and forgot the world again.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

Betsy was so full of joy that she had to be alone. She went upstairs to her bedroom and sat down on Uncle Keith's trunk. Behind Tracy's house the sun had set. A wind had sprung up and the trees, their color dimmed, moved under a brooding sky. All the stories she had told Tracy and TiB seemed to be dancing in those trees, along with all the stories she planned to write some day and all the stories she would read at the library. Good stories. Great stories. The classics. Not Rena's novels.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

But perhaps people who liked to write always made lists! Just for the fun of it.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

Come in early, so there'll be time to pop corn,' Mrs. Ray said. If she mentioned popping corn, they always came in early. So she usually mentioned it.

— Maud Hart Lovelace

In silence the three of them looked at the sunset and thought about God.

— Maud Hart Lovelace