I Went [to War] Because I Couldn't

Jo's Breath Gave Out Here, And Wrapping Her Head In The Paper, She Bedewed Her Little Story With A Few Natural Tears, For To Be Independent And Earn The Praise Of Those She Loved Were The Dearest Wishes Of Her Heart, And This Seemed To Be The First Step Toward That Happy End.

At Twenty-five, Girls Begin To Talk About Being Old Maids, But Secretly Resolve That They Never Will. At Thirty, They Say Nothing About It, But Quietly Accept The Fact.

I'm Afraid I Couldn't Like Him Without A Spice Of Human Naughtiness.

Father Asked Us What Was God's Noblest Work. Anna Said Men, But I Said Babies. Men Are Often Bad, But Babies Never Are.

Meg's High-heeled Slippers Were Dreadfully Tight, And Hurt Her, Though She Would Not Own It; And Jo's Nineteen Hair-pins All Seemed Stuck Straight Into Her Head, Which Was Not Exactly Comfortable; But, Dear Me, Let Us Be Elegant Or Die.