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

Right Jo better be happy old maids than unhappy wives or unmaidenly girls running about to find husbands.

But, like all happiness, it did not last long.

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.

November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year," said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frostbitten garden. "That's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose.

The humblest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them.

Let us be elegant or die! --Amy