It won't do a bit of good, Jo. My eye is on you, so mind what you do, or I'll come and bring you home.

Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. 'It’s so dreadful to be poor!' sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.

Life is a fight, and I like a good soldier.

I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burned hair, old gowns, one glove apiece, and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them.

They always looked back before turning the corner, for their mother was always at the window to nod and smile, and wave her hand to them. Somehow it seemed as if they couldn't have got through the day without that, for whatever their mood might be, the last glimpse of that motherly face was sure to affect them like sunshine.

I'm not Meg tonight, I'm a 'doll'.