She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty, and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined it to be, 'truth, reverence, and good will,' then her friend Friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.

I'm afraid I couldn't like him without a spice of human naughtiness.

Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and fall into a vortex, as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace.

A child her wayward pencil drew On margins of her book; Garlands of flower, dancing elves, Bud, butterfly, and brook, Lessons undone, and plum forgot, Seeking with hand and heart The teacher whom she learned to love Before she knew t'was Art.

Wouldn't it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true and we could live in them?

I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands." "They're not empty now.

…because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing.