[28 de junho de 1908] i offer my praise at no stated time and in no stereotyped form. my god is all gods in one. when i see a beautiful sunset, i worship the god of nature; when i see a hidden action brought to light, i worship the god of truth; when i see a bad man punished and a good man go free, i worship the god of justice; when i see a penitent forgiven, i worship the god of mercy. and never a day passes that i do not, for something beautiful, for something truthful, for something just, or for something merciful - give praise to my all-powerful creator. my worship is spontaneous, - never forced. i give no praise because of things for which i ought to be grateful, but for things which i am grateful. and i like my way of worship much better than all others. if i did not, i would not worship in that way; for i know that only one's best is good enough for god.

[29 de junho de 1908] it is such a relief to have a diary to run to, where you can spit out all your spite on something which can't spit back, and which is not hurt by your spitting.

[2 de julho de 1908] it was lovely to be up so early. i don't think i can ever lie abed again. the sun was just glinting through the trees and throwing the first long, wet shadows upon the fields. there are no shadows like sunrise shadows!

[19 de janeiro de 1910] if his eyes weren't so brown i couldn't endure it but a person with brown eyes has to be forgiven.

[26 de abril de 1910] it seems to me i shall never go out on a misty, drizzly night without feeling an emptiness beside me, without missing something - sorrowfully and, in an unaccountable way, resentfully. it is too lonesome almost to be borne. and yet i don't want anyone to come with me; i should be hateful, i know, to anyone who persisted in coming. to be lonesome is awful, but if i can't be happy i want to be lonesome. [...] all i can do is sit at the window and watch the rain until i can hardly keep from screaming. am in love with him? or am i simply in love with love? whatever it is i wish it would get either worse or better right off, for one thing is certain i can't stand this long. if this be love, i've had enough of it!

[10 de julho de 1910] i'm tired of being grown-up! tired of dresses that kick around my feet, tired of high-heeled shoes; tired of conventions and proprieties; tired, tired and sick of hairpins! i want to be a little girl again. it seems to me, looking back over my jump-rope and hop-scotch days, that i never played half hard enough, always came in a little too soon, lay abed a little too long. if i had only known, and had climbed enough trees and made enough mud-pies to last me through the awful days when i should want to and couldn't! and the awfullest thing about it is that i haven't forgotten how. it wouldn't be so bad if i just couldn't remember; but to know how so well - to want so bad - and not to be able to! it seems to me i can remember everything i ever did, every place i was ever in. my mind is a labyrinthian picture-gallery in which every panting is some scene from my life - vivid and distinct. it takes but the tiniest thing, the faintest sound or scent; often-times imagination - to bring such a scene before my eyes. [...] hundreds of places, each one as dear as these - each one so distinct that i know i could find now if it is still there. if i could just go back like a little girl and revisit each scene alone. who would there be to say "go away, you can't come here, for you are a little girl no longer"?

[2 de outubro de 1910] didn't do much of anything. embroidered this evening while mama read aloud "anne of green gables". it's the dearest story. ♡

[3 de agosto de 1911] it is hard being brave when you're lonesome. i've tried to be brave and i've done pretty well, but i've had to cry just a little tonight. it's no fun being in love with a shadow. but then, it's no fun being in love with anyone. and it's shadow or nothing with me until you come. god keep it so! and don't let me make any more mistakes.

[19 de setembro de 1911, essay on faith] only believe! believe in anything rather than in nothing. if you cannot worship god whom you have not seen, worship the sun, and no matter what the object is always the same. it is the believing which counts, not the belief. the man who believes in something greater than himself cannot be annihilated. and to love faith in everything is to kill one's soul. [...] believe all that is necessary to your happiness. build about yourself a wall of faith that neither doubt nor fear can batter down, and live within surrounded by all the beauties your soul can create. take into your heart every beautiful belief you can find. [...] that soul is blessed which, through pain and adversity, still sends its believings out to the edge of things. tendrils of faith will always find something to which to cling.