Gilbert Blythe wasn’t used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure. She SHOULD look at him, that red-haired Shirley girl with the little-pointed chin and the big eyes that weren’t like the eyes of any other girl in Avonlea school. Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne’s long red braid, held it out at arm’s length and said in a piercing whisper: “Carrots! Carrots!” Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance! She did more than look. She sprang to her feet, her bright fancies fallen into cureless ruin. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry tears. “You mean, hateful boy!” she exclaimed passionately. “How dare you!” And then—thwack! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert’s head and cracked it—slate not head—clear across. - Chapter 15 - A Tempest in the School Teapot
Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe - The famous “Carrots” and slate scene.
Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay 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. - Anne of Avonlea
“Do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?…A bosom friend—an intimate friend, you know—a real kindred spirit to whom I can confide my innermost soul. I’ve dreamed of meeting her all my life.”
Anne & Diana parallels in Anne of Green Gables and Anne With an E
When school was dismissed Anne marched out with her red head held high. Gilbert Blythe tried to intercept her at the porch door. “I’m awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne,” he whispered contritely. “Honest I am. Don’t be mad for keeps, now.” Anne swept by disdainfully, without look or sign of hearing. “Oh how could you, Anne?” breathed Diana as they went down the road half reproachfully, half admiringly. “I shall never forgive Gilbert Blythe,” said Anne firmly. “And Mr. Phillips spelled my name without an ‘e,’ too. The iron has entered into my soul, Diana.”