Louisa May Alcott
Louisa May Alcott
Louisa May Alcottwas an American novelist and poet best known as the author of the novel Little Womenand its sequels Little Menand Jo's Boys. Raised by her transcendentalist parents, Abigail May and Amos Bronson Alcott in New England, she grew up among many of the well-known intellectuals of the day such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Henry David Thoreau...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth29 November 1832
CityPhiladelphia, PA
CountryUnited States of America
Housekeeping ain't no joke.
Money is the root of all evil, and yet it is such a useful root that we cannot get on without it any more than we can without potatoes.
People don't have fortunes left them in that style nowadays; men have to work and women to marry for money. It's a dreadfully unjust world.
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.
...and Jo laid the rustling sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he finds himself alone in the work-a-day world again.
. . . for when women are the advisers, the lords of creation don't take the advice till they have persuaded themselves that it is just what they intended to do. Then they act upon it, and, if it succeeds, they give the weaker vessel half the credit of it. If it fails, they generously give her the whole.
Laurie, you're an angel! How shall I ever thank you?" "Fly at me again. I rather liked it," said Laurie, looking mischievous, a thing he had not done for a fortnight.
Some stories are so familiar its like going home.
We'll all grow up Meg, no pretending we won't.
Dear me! If only men and women would trust, understand and help as my children do, what a capital place `the world would be!
...and the most intense desire gave force to her passionate words as the girl glanced despairingly about the dreary room like a caged creature on the point of breaking loose.
He looked at her an instant, for the effect of the graceful girlish figure with pale, passionate face and dark eyes full of sorrow, pride and resolution was wonderfully enhanced by the gloom of the great room, and glimpses of a gathering storm in the red autumn sky.
Her beauty satisfied [his] artistic eye, her peculiarities piqued his curiosity, her vivacity lightened his ennui, and her character interested him by the unconscious hints it gave of power, pride and passion. So entirely natural and unconventional was she that he soon found himself on a familiar footing, asking all manner of unusual questions, and receiving rather piquant replies.
He was the first, the only love her life, and in a nature like hers such passions take deep root and die-hard.