I love this quote from the book Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery. I read this series when I was younger, I recently picked them back up while going through my old books.

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"Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath."

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