Louisa May Alcott

“…but mortal man was helpless there…”

“We don't choose our talents; but we needn't hide them in a napkin because they are not just what we want.”

“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.”

“…what splendid dreams young people build upon a word, and how bitter is the pain when the bright bubbles burst.”

“On, I don't think I'm a genius!' cried Josie, growing calm and sober as she listened to the melodious voice and looked into the expressive face that filled her with confidence, so strong, sincere and kindly was it. 'I only want to find out if I have talent enough to go on, and after years of study be able to act well in any of the good plays people never tire of seeing. I don't expected to be a Mrs. Siddons or a Miss Cameron, much as I long to be; but it does seem as if I had something in me which can't come out in any way but this. When I act I'm perfectly happy. I seem to live, to be in my own world, and each new part is a new friend. I love Shakespeare, and am never tired of his splendid people. Of course I don't understand it all; but it's like being alone at night with the mountains and the stars, solemn and grand, and I try to imagine how it will look when the sun comes up, and all is glorious and clear to me. I can't see, but I feel the beauty, and long to express it.”

“I'm tired of praise; and love is very sweet, when it is simple and sincere like this.”

“…growing pale and sober with the thought that her fate was soon to be decided; for, like all young people, she was sure that her whole life could be settled by one human creature, quite forgetting how wonderfully Providence trains us by disappointment, surprises us with unexpected success, and turns our seeming trials into blessing.”

“Love should not make us blind to faults, nor familiarity make us too ready to blame the shortcomings we see.”

“…for it is a very solemn thing to be arrested in the midst of busy life by the possibility of the great change.”

“…for action is always easier than quiet waiting.”

“…books are always good company if you have the right sort. Let me pick out some for you.' And Mrs. Jo made a bee-line to the well-laden shelves, which were the joy of her heart and the comfort of her life.”

“I can get on with wild beasts first-rate; but men rile me awfully…”

“Better lose your life than your soul…”

“Tired of my own company, I suppose, now I've seen so much better.”

“…it is so much better to work for others than for one's self alone.”

“…I'm always ready to talk, shouldn't be a woman if I were not,' laughed Mrs. Jo…”

“Oh dear, life is pretty tough sometimes, isn't it?”

“Young people think they never can change, but they do in the most wonderful manner, and very few die of broken hearts.”

“…but I never shall be very wise, I'm afraid.”

“Men are always ready to die for us, but not to make our lives worth having. Cheap sentiment and bad logic.”

“I do like men who come out frankly and own that they are not gods.”

“If every one agreed, we should never get on.”

“…having learned that people cannot be moulded like clay…”

“…misfortune was much more interesting to her than good luck.”

“Boys don't gush, so I can stand it. The last time I let in a party of girls, one fell into my arms and said, "Darling, love me!" I wanted to shake her,' answered Mrs. Jo, wiping her pen with energy.”

“The youngest, aged twelve, could not conceal her disappointment, and turned away, feeling as so many of us have felt when we discover that our idols are very extraordinary men and women.”

“If all literary women had such thoughtful angels for husbands, they would live longer and write more. Perhaps that wouldn't be such a blessing to the world though, as most of us write too much now,' said Mrs. Jo…”

“…she rejoiced as only mothers can in the good fortunes of their children.”

“…notoriety is not real glory.”

“Don't suggest that we are growing old, my Lord. We have only bloomed; and a very nice bouquet we make with our buds about us,' answered Mrs. Amy, shaking out the folds of her rosy muslin with much the air of dainty satisfaction the girl used to show in a new dress.Not to mention our thorns and dead leaves,' added Jo, with a sigh; for life had never been very easy to her, and even now she had her troubles both within and without.”

“I think this power of living in our children is one of the sweetest things in the world…”

“Prosperity suits some people, and they blossom best in a glow of sunshine; others need the shade, and are the sweeter for a touch of frost.”

“It is a merciful provision my dears, for it takes three or four women to get each man into, through, and out of the world. You are costly creatures, boys, and it is well that mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters love their duty and do it so well, or you would perish off the face of the earth,' said Mrs. Jo solemnly…”

“Young people seldom turn out as one predicts, so it is of little use to expect anything,' said Mrs. Meg with a sigh. 'If our children are good and useful men and women, we should be satisfied; yet it's very natural to wish them to be brilliant and successful.”

“…young minds cannot be driven…”

“…if men and women would only trust, understand, and help one another as my children do, what a capital place the world would be!' and Mrs. Jo's eyes grew absent, as if she was looking at a new and charming state of society in which people lived as happily and innocently as her flock at Plumfield.”

“Oh, that is the surprise. It's so lovely, I pity you because you don't know it…”

“…the child's heart bled when it was broken.”

“We live in a beautiful and wonderful world, Demi, and the more you now about it the wiser and the better you will be.”

“It's very singular how hard it is to manage your mind,' said Demi, clasping his hands round his knees, and looking up at the sky as if for information upon his favorite topic.”

“…for no matter how lost and soiled and worn-out wandering sons may be, mothers can forgive and forget every thing as they fold them into their fostering arms. Happy the son whose faith in his mother remains unchanged, and who, through all his wanderings, has kept some filial token to repay her brave and tender love.”

“I don't see why God made any night; day is so much pleasanter…”

“…Mrs. Jo sat smiling over her book as she built castles in the air, just as she used to do when a girl, only then they were for herself, and now they were for other people, which is the reason perhaps that some of them came to pass in reality — for charity is an excellent foundation to build anything upon.”

“…no person, no matter how vivid an imagination he may have, can invent anything half so droll as the freaks and fancies that originate in the lively brains of little people.”

“…and Aunt Jo retired, satisfied with the success of her last trap to catch a sunbeam.”

“…we're twins, and so we love each other more than other people…”

“It takes so little to make a child happy, that it is a pity in a world full of sunshine and pleasant things, that there should be any wistful faces, empty hands, or lonely little hearts.”

“As Hester Prynne seemed to see some trace of her own sin in every bosom, by the glare of the Scarlet Letter burning on her own; so Sylvia, living in the shadow of a household grief, found herself detecting various phases of her own experience in others. She had joined that sad sisterhood called disappointed women; a larger class than many deem it to be, though there are few of us who have not seen members of it. Unhappy wives; mistaken or forsaken lovers; meek souls, who make life a long penance for the sins of others; gifted creatures kindled into fitful brilliancy by some inward fire that consumes but cannot warm. These are the women who fly to convents, write bitter books, sing songs full of heartbreak, act splendidly the passion they have lost or never won. Who smile, and try to lead brave uncomplaining lives, but whose tragic eyes betray them, whose voices, however sweet or gay, contain an undertone of hopelessness, whose faces sometimes startle one with an expression which haunts the observer long after it is gone.”

“…on some occasions, women, like dreams, go by contraries.”

“…wisely mingled poetry and prose.”