If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what.
Like a confiding child, she asked no questions, but left everything to God and nature, Father and Mother of us all, feeling sure that they, and they only, could teach and strengthen heart and spirit for this life and the life to come. She did not rebuke Jo with saintly speeches, only loved her better for her passionate affection, and clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself.
Don’t laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me,” and Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction.
Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick, Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass, Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy, who was always trying to do what she couldn’t, was Nathaniel Winkle.
You are a hero-worshipper, my dear; and if people don’t come up to the mark you are so disappointed that you fail to see the fine reality which remains when the pretty romance ends.
Many wise and true sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in street, school, office, or home; even a fair table may become a pulpit, if it can offer the good and helpful words which are never out of season. Amy’s conscience preached her a little sermon from that text, then and there, and she did what many of us do not always do – took the sermon to heart, and straightway put it in practice.
It is not cowardly to flee temptation, and nobody whose opinion is worth having will ridicule any brave attempt to conquer one’s self. Don’t mind it, Charlie, but stand fast, and I am sure you will succeed.
Many men can be what the world calls great: very few men are what God calls good. This is the harder task to choose, yet the only success that satisfies, the only honor that outlives death.
And Maud’s face brightened: for destructiveness is one of the earliest traits of childhood, and ripping was Maud’s delight.
When Mr. March lost his property in trying to help an unfortunate friend, the two oldest girls begged to be allowed to do something toward their own support, at least. Believing that they could not begin too early to cultivate energy, industry, and independence, their parents consented, and both fell to work with the hearty good-will which in spite of all obstacles, is sure to succeed at last.
Lounging and larking doesn’t pay,” observed Jo, shaking her head. “I’m tired of it and mean to go to work at something right off.
You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks.” “I dare say, short answers save trouble.
Mark my words, Jo, you’ll go next.
I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls The stains of the week away, And let water and air by their magic make Ourselves as pure as they. Then on the earth there would be indeed, A glorious washing day!
No, winking isn’t ladylike.
Each do our part alone in many things, but at home we work together, always.
Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal;.
Here!” answered a husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her.
Little things of this sort are especially good work for little people: a kind little thought, an unselfish little act, a cherry little word, are so sweet and comfortable, that no one can fail to feel their beauty and love the giver, no matter how small they are. Mothers do a deal of this sort of thing, unseen, unthanked, but felt and remembered long afterward, and never lost, for this is the simple magic that binds hearts together, and keeps home happy.
I must try to practice all the virtues I would have my little girls possess, for I was their example.