"Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and fall into a vortex, as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace."
"But, like all happiness, it did not last long…"
"Conceit spoils the finest genius."
"Well, I am happy, and I won't fret, but it does seem as if the more one gets the more one wants…"
"You don’t need scores of suitors. You need only one… if he’s the right one."
"...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."