Being a domestic man, John decidedly missed the wifely attentions he had been accustomed to receive, but as he adored his babies, he cheerfully relinquished his comfort for a time, supposing with masculine ignorance that peace would soon be restored.
I'm afraid I couldn't like him without a spice of human naughtiness.
Wouldn't it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true and we could live in them?
For in that sad yet happy hour, she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control, and led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the Friend who always welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother.
Love covers a multitude of sins…
I only mean to say that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I'm not like the rest of you.
The clocks were striking midnight and the rooms were very still as a figure glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a coverlid here, settling a pillow there, and pausing to look long and tenderly at each unconscious face, to kiss each with lips that mutely blessed, and to pray the fervent prayers which only mothers utter.
But he did, oh, bless you, yes, hundreds of times, and so did Meg, both declaring that it was the sweetest jelly they ever made; for family peace was preserved in that little family jar.
In her secret soul, however, she decided that politics were as bad as mathematics, and that the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names…
You are like a chestnut burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart some day, and then the rough burr will fall off.
Gentlemen, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color.
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.
I should have been a great many things, Mr Mayor
The dirt is picturesque, so I don't mind.
But please hug and kiss me, everyone, and don't mind my dress, I want a great many crumples of this sort put into it today.
It was forunate that tea was at hand, to produce a lull and provide refreshment...
You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.
Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace.
Many wise and true sermons are preached us everyday 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.
I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to explain them.
Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault.
But, like all happiness, it did not last long…
I've got the key to my castle in the air, but whether I can unlock the door remains to be seen.
You don't need scores of suitors. You need only one… if he's the right one.
Go out more, keep cheerful as well as busy, for you are the sunshine-maker of the family, and if you get dismal there is no fair weather.
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.
I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday.
We each are young, we each have a heart, Oh, why should we thus stand coldly apart
Conceit spoils the finest genius.
Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally…
Paulo Coelho - Franz Kafka - V. S. Naipaul - P. D. James - Maxim Gorky - J. D. Salinger - Boris Pasternak - Arthur Koestler - Alexander Solzehnitsyn - Aldous Huxley