Is it Rilla-my-Rilla?

Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you.

Anne, look here. Can’t we be good friends?”
For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd, newly awakened consciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expression in Gilbert’s hazel eyes was something that was very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance promptly stiffened up her wavering determination. That scene of two years before flashed back into her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. Gilbert had called her “carrots” and had brought about her disdain before the whole school. Her resentment, which to other and older people might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by time seemingly. She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him!

Don't be very frightened, Marilla. I was walking the ridge-pole and I fell off. I suspect I have sprained my ankle. But, Marilla, I might have broken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things.

I wouldn't want to marry anybody who was wicked, but I think I'd like it if he could be wicked and wouldn't.

I went looking for my dreams outside of myself and discovered, it's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it.