Mine first – mine last – mine even in the grave!
Meg’s high-heeled slippers were dreadfully tight, and hurt her, though she would not own it; and Jo’s nineteen hair-pins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable; but, dear me, let us be elegant or die.
Wouldn’t it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true and we could live in them?
So she doesn’t call desertion, poverty, and hard work troubles? She’s a brave little girl, and I shall be proud to know her.
I’ve neither beauty, money, nor rank, yet every foolish boy mistakes my frank interest for something warmer, and makes me miserable. It is my misfortune. Think of me what you will, but beware of me in time, for against my will I may do you harm.
You have grown abominably lazy, and you like gossip, and waste time on frivolous things, you are contented to be petted and admired by silly people, instead of being loved and respected by wise ones.
It’s amazing how lovely common things become, if one only knows how to look at them.
He was the first, the only love her life, and in a nature like hers such passions take deep root and die-hard.
Dear me! If only men and women would trust, understand and help as my children do, what a capital place ’the world would be!
We’ll all grow up Meg, no pretending we won’t.
If we are all alive ten years hence, let’s meet, and see how many of us have got our wishes, or how much nearer we are then than now.
People don’t have fortunes left them in that style nowadays; men have to work and women to marry for money. It’s a dreadfully unjust world.
Money is the root of all evil, and yet it is such a useful root that we cannot get on without it any more than we can without potatoes.
Housekeeping ain’t no joke.
What do girls do who haven’t any mothers to help them through their troubles?
My only answer is, if my grave stood open on one side and you upon the other I’d go into my grave before I would take one step to meet you.
Persuasive influences are better than any amount of moralizing.
Well, if I can’t be happy, I can be useful, perhaps.
Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don’t let it spoil you, for it’s wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can’t have the one you want.
Jo’s eyes sparkled, for it’s always pleasant to be believed in; and a friend’s praise is always sweeter than a dozen newspaper puffs.