I Could Have Been A Great Many

If We Are All Alive Ten Years Hence, Let's Meet, And See How Many Of Us Have Got Our Wishes, Or How Much Nearer We Are Then Than Now.

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.

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.

A Child Her Wayward Pencil Drew On Margins Of Her Book; Garlands Of Flower, Dancing Elves, Bud, Butterfly, And Brook, Lessons Undone, And Plum Forgot, Seeking With Hand And Heart The Teacher Whom She Learned To Love Before She Knew T'was Art.

You Are Like A Chestnut Burr, Prickly Outside, But Silky-soft Within, And A Sweet Kernel, If One Can Only Get At It. Love Will Make You Show Your Heart Some Day, And Then The Rough Burr Will Fall Off.