It's 4.22 a.m., and I spent the last few hours watching 'Anne of Green Gables' and reading excerpts from the Anne series. Of all the books I have, none other can claim a hold on me stronger than the stories about the red-headed orphan girl. No, not even Pride and Prejudice (sorry Jane Austen).
After all these years, I still feel just as strongly as I did more than a decade ago about Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe. I still wear the same dreamy smile after finishing the last chapter of 'Anne of the Island'.
Some things never leave you.
Or perhaps, I am just as big a fool now as I was then.
There's sentimentality for you. Must be a sign of mental fatigue. I should sleep.
After all these years, I still feel just as strongly as I did more than a decade ago about Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe. I still wear the same dreamy smile after finishing the last chapter of 'Anne of the Island'.
Some things never leave you.
Or perhaps, I am just as big a fool now as I was then.
There's sentimentality for you. Must be a sign of mental fatigue. I should sleep.
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