Have Your Fun, My Dear; But If

I Want To Do Something Splendid… Something Heroic Or Wonderful That Won’t Be Forgotten After I’m Dead… I Think I Shall Write Books.

Mrs. Jo Did Not Mean The Measles, But That More Serious Malady Called Love, Which Is Apt To Ravage Communities, Spring And Autumn, When Winter Gayety And Summer Idleness Produce Whole Bouquets Of Engagements, And Set Young People To Pairing Off Like The Birds.

Mothers Can Forgive Anything! Tell Me All, And Be Sure That I Will Never Let You Go, Though The Whole World Should Turn From You.

John Brooke Is Acting Dreadfully, And Meg Likes It!

I Am Lonely, Sometimes, But I Dare Say It's Good For Me.