Men are often bad, but babies never are.

Love is apt to make lunatics of even men and saints.

Laurie, you're an angel! How shall I ever thank you?" "Fly at me again. I rather liked it," said Laurie, looking mischievous, a thing he had not done for a fortnight.

The moment Aunt March took her nap, or was busy with company, Jo hurried to this quiet place, and curling herself up in the easy chair, devoured poetry, romance, history, travels, and pictures like a regular bookworm.

A quick temper, sharp tongue, and restless spirit were always getting her into scrapes, and her life was a series of ups and downs, which were both comic and pathetic.

Human minds are more full of mysteries than any written book and more changeable than the cloud shapes in the air.

I had a pleasant time with my mind, for it was happy.