| Anne: |
"I think Gilbert Blythe might have been asking me if I loved him and I think I told him to marry someone else." |
| Aunt Jo; |
"Well, do you love this Gilbert Blythe?" |
| Anne: |
"I don’t know. I’ve never loved anyone like that before. He’s the only one I think of in that way, but love? How does one know? And how can I be sure enough to say: “Sure, take option two, when option one is all he wants for his future?" |
| Aunt Jo: |
"What is option one?" |
| Anne: |
"A girl, whose father offers him a chance at a life he can’t otherwise have." |
| Aunt Jo. |
"That is a prodigious conundrum." |
| Anne: |
"I was a child yesterday, and now I fell like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a ticking clock! If I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life or his. In books, characters just know, but this feels like something that I can’t quite grasp. Does that mean I don’t live him?" |
| Aunt Jo: |
"I’ve never bought into that “You just know.” notion. Love is a tricky thing. Sometimes it feels like an undeniable force that hits between the eyes and doesn’t let up. Other times it’s malleable, questionable; its truth hidden in and amongst external obstacles and internal circumstances that‘ve formed who you are, what you expect in the world, and how you can accept love. Oh, to say the least, it’s complicated. And if a mind’s abuzz with pressure and deadlines and “what if this and that” I imagine love’s truth would be a near-impossible thing to feel. I wonder if when all’s quiet in your mind you’ll find your answer." |
| Anne: |
"And what if by then it’s too late? I suppose I’ll have my tragical romance after all." |
