“Anyhow, there'll be plenty of jam in heaven, that's one comfort, he said complacently.Perhaps there will...if we want it, she said, But what makes you think so?Why, it's in the catechism, said Davy.Oh, no, there is nothing like that in the catechism, Davy.But I tell you there is, persisted Davy. It was in that question Marilla taught me last Sunday. Why should we love God? It says, Because he makes preserves, and redeems us. Preserves is just a holy way of saying jam.”

“You like me,” he finally said. “You like me, like me.” He was trying not to smile.“No. I hate you,” I said, hoping that saying it would make it so.“And yet, you draw me.” Noah was still smug, completely undeterred by my declaration.This was torture; worse somehow than what just happened, even though it was only the two of us. Or because it was only the two of us.“Why?” he asked.“Why what?” What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I’d like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don’t tell.”

“Eliza—” I said, “so many of the books I’ve read to you said love was the most important thing of all. Maybe I should tell you that I love you now.” “Go ahead,” she said. “I love you, Eliza,” I said. She thought about it. “No,” she said at last, “I don’t like it.” “Why not?” I said. ”It’s as though you were pointing a gun at my head,” she said. “It’s just a way of getting somebody to say something they probably don’t mean. What else can I say, or anybody say, but, ‘I love you, too’?”

“You’re in love with me? Why have you never said anything?” He demanded. “No one wants to tell someone she loves him, and have him not say it back,” her eyes dropped and she said it so softly he had to strain to hear it.”

“("Let's stand under a tree," she said. "Why?""Because it's nicer.""Maybe you should sit on a chair, and I'll stand above you, like they always do with husbands and wives.""That's stupid.""Why's it stupid?""Because we're not married.""Should we hold hands?""We can't.""But why?""Because, people will know.""Know what?""About us.""So what if they know?""It's better when it's a secret.""Why?""So no one can take it from us.")”

“I don’t want the finer things in life, like preserves of jam and thick soft quilts, until I get what I need: the machinery to make that stuff for me.”