1 I let the sun go down on my anger.
2 The sun was low, and the heavens glowed with the splendor of an autumn sunset.
3 She's got such a soft heart, it will melt like butter in the sun if anyone looks sentimentlly at her.
4 When the sun peeped into the girls' room early next morning to promise them a fine day, he saw a comical sight.
5 Soon the sun came out, and taking it as a good omen, I cleared up likewise and enjoyed my journey with all my heart.
6 As she rolled away, the sun came out, and looking back, she saw it shining on the group at the gate like a good omen.
7 As Jo received her good-night kiss, Mrs. March whispered gently, "My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger."
8 I read my little book, felt better, resolved not to let the sun set on my anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry.
9 "No doubt about the weather today, they will certainly come, so we must fly round and be ready for them," said Amy, as the sun woke her next morning.
10 This year it was to be a plantation of sun flowers, the seeds of which cheerful land aspiring plant were to feed Aunt Cockle-top and her family of chicks.
11 The snow was light, and with her broom she soon swept a path all round the garden, for Beth to walk in when the sun came out and the invalid dolls needed air.
12 This funny spectacle appeared to amuse the sun, for he burst out with such radiance that Jo woke up and roused her sisters by a hearty laugh at Amy's ornament.
13 He looked sober in spite of his humming, till he went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like an old friend.
14 Never had the sun risen so beautifully, and never had the world seemed so lovely as it did to the heavy eyes of Meg and Jo, as they looked out in the early morning, when their long, sad vigil was done.
15 It was a rather pretty little picture, for the sisters sat together in the shady nook, with sun and shadow flickering over them, the aromatic wind lifting their hair and cooling their hot cheeks, and all the little wood people going on with their affairs as if these were no strangers but old friends.
16 I don't know whether the study of Shakespeare helped her to read character, or the natural instinct of a woman for what was honest, brave, and strong, but while endowing her imaginary heroes with every perfection under the sun, Jo was discovering a live hero, who interested her in spite of many human imperfections.
17 For two or three hours the sun lay warmly in the high window, showing Jo seated on the old sofa, writing busily, with her papers spread out upon a trunk before her, while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the beams overhead, accompanied by his oldest son, a fine young fellow, who was evidently very proud of his whiskers.
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