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
Louisa May Alcott quotes about
…proved that woman isn't a half but a whole human being, and can stand alone.
Simple, genuine goodness is the best capital to found the business of this life upon. It lasts when fame and money fail, and is the only riches we can take out of this world with us.
I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end. (Jo March)
You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.
I don't pretend to be wise, but I am observing, and I see a great deal more than you'd imagine. I'm interested in other people's experiences and inconsistencies, and, though I can't explain, I remember and use them for my own benefit.
The female population exceeds the male, you know, especially in New England, which accounts for the high state of culture we are in, perhaps.
Nothing provokes speculation more than the sight of a woman enjoying herself." -
Work is always my salvation and I will celebrate it.
I often think flowers are the angels' alphabet whereby they write on hills and fields mysterious and beautiful lessons for us to feel and learn.
And when they went away, leaving comfort behind, I think there were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning.
The fear of being an old maid made young girls rush into matrimony with a recklessness that astonishes.
...and best of all, the wilderness of books, in which she could wander, where she liked, made the library a region of bliss to her.
The moment Aunt March took her nap, or was busy with company, Jo hurried to this quiet place, and curling herself up in the easy chair, devoured poetry, romance, history, travels, and pictures like a regular bookworm.
I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queen's on thrones, without self-respect and peace.