Louisa May Alcott

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.

“Thanks. The last scene shall be still better.”

We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we are playing all the time in one way or another.

“Because she had the utmost contempt for a titled fool.”

I don’t believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burnt hair, old gowns, one glove apiece, and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them.

“I’ll not fail again if there is power in a woman’s wit and will!”

A fellow can’t live on books

The metamorphosis was wonderful, but the disguise was more in the expression she assumed than in any art of costume or false adornment.

My dear, don’t let the sun go down upon your anger; forgive each other, help each other, and begin again tomorrow.

“Under the ice I see fire, and warn you to beware lest it prove a volcano.”

Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful

“I am; it’s a family failing.”

At the conclusion of the ceremonies, Beth retired to her room, overcome with emotion and lobster; but there was no place of repose, for the beds were not made, and she found her grief much assuaged by beating up pillows and putting things in order.

“Because it is my duty to forget,” was all her answer.

If people really want to go, and really try all their lives, I think they will get in; for I don’t believe there are any locks on that door, or any guards at the gate.

“I am a witch, and one day my disguise will drop away and you will see me as I am, old, ugly, bad and lost. Beware of me in time. I’ve warned you. Now love me at your peril.”

I thought you were asleep, so I just made a little private moan for my one beauty.

“Why waste tears or feign sorrow when I must be glad?” she muttered, as she paced to and fro along the terrace.

Oh, dear me! why weren’t we all boys, then there wouldn’t be any bother.

Men always croak when they are hungry,