November Is The Most Disagreeable Month In

But, Polly, A Principle That Can't Bear Being Laughed At, Frowned On, And Cold-shouldered, Isn't Worthy Of The Name.

...the Love, Respect, And Confidence Of My Children Was The Sweetest Reward I Could Receive For My Efforts To Be The Woman I Would Have Them Copy.

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.

I'd Have A Stable Full Of Arabian Steeds, Rooms Piled With Books, And I'd Write Out Of A Magic Inkstand, So That My Works Should Be As Famous As Laurie's Music. I Want To Do Something Splendid Before I Go Into My Castle,-something Heroic, Or Wonderful,-that Won't Be Forgotten After I'm Dead. I Don't Know What, But I'm On The Watch For It, And Mean To Astonish You All, Some Day. I Think I Shall Write Books, And Get Rich And Famous; That Would Suit Me, So That Is My Favorite Dream.

The Thought That, Insignificant As She Was, She Yet Might Do Some Good, Made Her Very Careful Of Her Acts And Words, And So Anxious To Keep Head Contented And Face Happy, That She Forgot Her Clothes, And Made Others Do The Same. She Did Not Know It, But That Good Old Fashion Of Simplicity Made The Plain Gowns Pretty, And The Grace Of Unconsciousness Beautified Their Little Wearer With The Charm That Makes Girlhood Sweetest To Those Who Truly Love And Reverence It.