Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?

Anne Shirley asks this question in chapter 21 of Anne of Green Gables. L. M. Montgomery immediately gives Marilla a practical reply: tomorrow is likely to contain more mistakes. Their exchange holds optimism and experience together. Anne's pleasure in a fresh day does not depend on a convincing guarantee that she will become a different, flawless person before the morning has properly begun.

That balance is part of the line's lasting appeal. A new day is useful because an earlier error need not determine every subsequent action. It is not useful because the calendar performs a complete repair overnight. There is room for another attempt, and also for the lessons that make the attempt more informed. Anne's enthusiasm survives Marilla's objection, which makes the hope more interesting than simple perfectionism. The future can remain inviting even when we know ourselves well enough to expect further complications.

The cream kitten at the bright window gives tomorrow a small, curious face. The room has not become an entirely different world; it has acquired another morning's light. That is a sensible scale for the promise. A human day can begin without requiring every previous mistake to disappear, and a fresh attempt can be worthwhile even if Marilla would wisely refuse to guarantee its spotless conclusion.