He was so lonely that he laughed at himself. — L.M. Montgomery, Emily Climbs
He was so lonely that he laughed at himself. — L.M. Montgomery, Emily Climbs
He was so lonely that he laughed at himself. — L.M. Montgomery, Emily Climbs
He was so lonely that he laughed at himself. — L.M. Montgomery, Emily Climbs
He was so lonely that he laughed at himself. — L.M. Montgomery, Emily Climbs
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He was so lonely that he laughed at himself.

— L.M. Montgomery, Emily Climbs
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More “Emily” Quotes

She died--this was the way she died;And when her breath was done,Took up her simple wardrobeAnd started for the sun.Her — Emily Dickinson, Selected Poems
Because I could not stop for Death,He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselvesAnd Immortality.We slowl — Emily Dickinson
Of course, things always seem more impressive when you're a little kid. — Emily Fridlund, History of Wolves
The following year the house was substantially remodeled, and the conservatory removed. As the walls of the now crumblin — Jamie Fuller, The Diary of Emily Dickinson
It was not, of course, a proper thing to do. But then I have never pretended, nor will ever pretend, that Emily was a pr — L.M. Montgomery, Emily Climbs
Aunt Elizabeth said, 'Do you expect to attend many balls, if I may ask?' and I said, 'Yes, when I am rich and famous.' a — L.M. Montgomery
I never hear about dear Mike. I wrote Ellen Greene and asked about him and she replyed and never mentioned Mike but told — L.M. Montgomery
My idea of a fun night was diving into a massive pile of To Be Read pile of books stacked near my dresser... I was the g — Jeff Sampson, Vesper
I hear the Wind Woman running with soft, soft footsteps over the hill. I shall always think of the wind as a personality — L.M. Montgomery
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,And Mourners to and froKept treading – treading – till it seemedThat Sense was breaking th — Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
The greater the injury, the greater the fun. — Leinad Eibam, a celebration of poets, Summer 2015
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music, Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled. — Emily Dickinson