Read:The Painful Eagerness of Unfed Hope

Anne Shirley: Doesn't it just feed your heart when the air's so crisp? Every breath feels so alive! It's the perfect day for a tragical romance!

Diana Barry: Lord Tennyson would approve!

Anne: Whomever plays Elaine must lie in the flat and float to Camelot while the others mourn her death most sorrowfully. I find it helpful to think of something that makes you sad in your own life.

Diana: Of course you must be Elaine, Anne.

Anne: Oh, it would be ridiculous to have a redheaded Elaine. It ought to be Ruby. She has lovely, golden hair. And Elaine had "all her bright hair streaming down."

Ruby Gillis: Oh, I couldn't. To lie and pretend I was dead... I'd die of fright! This was your idea, Anne.

Jane Andrews: You're obsessed with Elaine.

Anne: Oh, it's true. And each time I read the poem, I'm devoured by a secret regret that I was not born in Camelot. Those days were much more romantic than the present. I will be Elaine, then.

Mrs. Eliza Barry: Diana? Well, I never... Diana!

Anne: Ruby, you must be King Arthur. Jane, Guinevere and Diana must be Lancelot. I need a flower.

Ruby: She does really look dead. My mother says that all playacting is abominably wicked.

Anne: Ruby, you shouldn't mention your mother. It spoils the effect, because this was hundreds of years before your mother was born.

Jane: We must kiss her quiet brows.

Diana: Sister... farewell forever.

Jane: Now she's ready. Farewell, Elaine the lovable!

Mrs. Barry: Diana!!

Diana: Mother!

Mrs. Barry Child, come out of there at once.

I've been calling. You were to be practicing lessons, and here I find you engaged in perilous, senseless... whatever this is!

Anne: We were practicing lessons, in a way.

Diana: We're studying the poem Lancelot and Elaine at school, and we decided to re-enact it...

Mrs. Barry: Diana, home. Now. The rest as well, before you catch your death.

Diana: The girls just got here and we were simply...

Mrs. Barry: Now! I will be heard!

Anne, be on your way, please. Come along now, Diana. Come along, girls.

Anne: So much for romance.

Anne: Is it addressed to Anne Shirley-Cuthbert from a faraway port?

Neighbour?: I'm afraid not.

Anne: We've got post! I thought for a moment it might be from Gil... That it might be for me. But... Open it!

It must be important. Is that not your second letter from Miss Jeannie?

Marilla Cuthbert: Third.

Anne: I'm ever so aimless with Diana not allowed out to play. Mrs. Barry is being quite harsh. We weren't in peril. It's not like we were ever in any real danger. Not like when the boarders were here. We were re-enacting the most romantical poem ever.

Marilla: Dear Lord, will you ever learn any sense?

Anne: No need to ask the Lord, Marilla. I believe the prospect of me becoming sensible is actually brighter now than ever. You see, I've come to the conclusion that there's really no use trying to be romantic in Avonlea. It may have been easy in Camelot hundreds of years ago, but romance is not appreciated anymore.

Marilla: It's a day late and a dollar short for your newfound "sensibleness." I dare say Mrs. Barry was right to call your pond business dangerous. Seeing as you can't seem to keep out of trouble, you will confine yourself to indoor chores.

Anne: But, Marilla...

Matthew: Well, now, that was a good few days ago.

Marilla: We all need to stop gallivanting around like nothing bad could ever happen in Avonlea!

Matthew: Don't give up all your romance, Anne. A little of it's a good thing.

Mrs. Barry: Oh, for heaven's sake. They're going to need to go higher. You'll have to move the rod.

Mr. William Barry: Yes... it was too peaceful in here.

Mrs. Barry: Why don't you go for a trot, dear? You haven't left the house in days.

Mr. Barry: I'm quite alright, thank you. Despite the glare from the gaudy drapes you seem to have spent our nest egg on.

Mrs. Barry: I'm sure I don't need to remind you that I purchased these drapes before you lost our money. Around the time you were telling me to stay out of our finances and trust that you were going to make us rich.

Would you excuse us for a moment, please?

We'll never return to England now, will we? We're stuck here! What about the girls? What about their future? This is something that happened to our whole family. You cannot just refuse to engage...

Mr. Barry: At least I was trying to do something, while you flit around all day doing nothing.

Anne: "Matthew, I'm sure I've made it clear by now...

Anne: ...but I've been thinking of you since we reconnected last year. If you could find it in your heart to respond, it would mean the world to me. You are a special man. Yours, Jeannie."

Have you ever heard anything more romantic?

Ruby: What does it mean?

Anne: Don't you see? A widow, who believes her days of love are behind her, is suddenly reacquainted with the kindest, most wonderful man, who she knew in school, only to discover that he has lived his whole life without the bliss of true love.

Ruby: They knew each other in school? Why, Gilbert and I knew each other in school.

Anne: Maybe Matthew's been waiting for Jeannie this whole time.

Ruby: Why isn't he writing her back?

Anne: He doesn't have the words.

Ruby: It would be awful to live a life without true love.

Anne: I will be an agent of romance.

Diana: How can you be sure that Matthew and Jeannie are in love?

Anne: Did you ever go courting, Matthew?

Matthew: Uh... c-can't say as I did, no.

Anne: Well, do you... believe in true love?

Matthew: Well, now... I got no reason to, uh... disbelieve it, I suppose.

Anne: But did you ever feel the ache of love in your own heart?

Matthew: I wonder if Marilla isn't the one that y...

Anne: I want to talk to you.

Matthew: Alright, then. Uh, well, then... Anne... if you're having... uh... feelings... a-about a... a... a boy...

Anne: Not me!

Matthew: Oh, uh, excuse me, Anne. Jerry, let me give you some instructions about the hay.

Sebastian Lacroix: Blythe, you ready? One rum, one babash.

Gilbert Blythe: Ooh! Oof. You sure that's not gonna kill you?

Bash: No. That's what makes it good. The danger. Got to taste death to feel alive, Blythe. Not for you, though, first-timer. Babash... local delicacy. You'll be sprouting like a weed.

Gilbert: Man, seeing the world, trying new things. What could be better?

Bash: Gold. Some girl tell you there might be gold on your land and you'd rather move coal.

Gilbert: I wouldn't say that girl's the most reliable narrator.

Bash: You are crazy! If I had somebody pretty back home, gold or no, I'd be up outta here.

Gilbert: It's not like that with Anne. She's just a friend.

Bash: Yeah. A friend that make you smile and act like a moke. Be a man.

Gilbert: I am.

Bash: Only a boy can't admit when he's gone over a lady.

Gilbert: Would a boy stare danger right in the eye? And swallow it?

Bash: Hey. No, no!

Gilbert: Oh. Oh... Oh. Oh! Oh.

Bash: There there, doux-doux. You're a man in truth.

Come, come.

Rachel Lynde: Marilla's got a mind to make a new dress, has she? She'd do well not to let folks see her spending money at a time when many lost theirs.

Anne: I'm not sure a dress made by Marilla will make people think of money. Although, a store-bought dress from Jeannie's shop, on the other hand. It was ever so nice of Matthew to ask Jeannie to make me a dress last year. Did they know each other well? In school?

Rachel: Can't say I remember much, seeing as it was decades ago. I do recall that he walked her home a few times. But after his brother Michael died, that was the end of everything.

Anne: The end of everything? How so?

Rachel: It changed the course of all the Cuthberts' lives. And Matthew...

Rachel: [voice over] ...he went into that barn... and he never came out.

Anne: Love thwarted by tragedy.

Anne: Dearest Jeannie, I am deeply sorry... it has... taken so long... to answer your letters.

Mrs. Barry: Do not move.

Diana: Minnie May. Minnie May, what are you doing?! Stop it, Minnie May! Social Etiquette?

Mrs. Barry: Girls!

Diana: It was... it was Minnie May!

Minnie May Barry: Diana did it!

Mrs. Barry: Hush! I can see this book has arrived not a moment too soon. If you can't be finished in Paris, you will be taught at home. It's time to learn to be proper ladies. Childhood... is over.

Mrs. Barry: Girls.

Mr. Barry: Yes, well... isn't that something. Changing the world, are we, dear? One curtsy at a time?