You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.

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.

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations.

A time will come when you will find that in gaining a brief joy you have lost your peace forever.

Your father, Jo. He never loses patience, never doubts or complains, but always hopes, and works and waits so cheerfully that one is ashamed to do otherwise before him.

Don't mind me. I'm as happy as a cricket here.

We'll all grow up Meg, no pretending we won't.