1 Not a bit of it, I'm dying to do it.
2 And it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa.
3 I've been sick with this cold so long, and shut up, I'm dying for some fun.
4 Presently, as Jo's sobs quieted, he said hopefully, "I don't think she will die."
5 They both died when Laurie was a little child, and then his grandfather took him home.
6 We didn't open it, but we are dying to know what he says, cried Jo, hugging her sister and offering the note.
7 I suspect that the real attraction was a large library of fine books, which was left to dust and spiders since Uncle March died.
8 You think so now, but there'll come a time when you will care for somebody, and you'll love him tremendously, and live and die for him.
9 I'm sick of the sight of this, and there's no reason you should all die of a surfeit because I've been a fool, cried Amy, wiping her eyes.
10 "The good and dear people always do die," groaned Jo, but she stopped crying, for her friend's words cheered her up in spite of her own doubts and fears.
11 In her first effort at being very, very good, she decided to make her will, as Aunt March had done, so that if she did fall ill and die, her possessions might be justly and generously divided.
12 "I have neither, and very few friends to care whether I live or die," said Mr. Brooke rather bitterly as he absently put the dead rose in the hole he had made and covered it up, like a little grave.
13 "I'll never tell him to my dying day, wild horses shan't drag it out of me, so you'll forgive me, Meg, and I'll do anything to show how out-and-out sorry I am," he added, looking very much ashamed of himself.
14 Seldom except in books do the dying utter memorable words, see visions, or depart with beatified countenances, and those who have sped many parting souls know that to most the end comes as naturally and simply as sleep.
15 Meg's high-heeled slippers were very tight and hurt her, though she would not own it, and Jo's nineteen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable, but, dear me, let us be elegant or die.
16 Feeling very much out of sorts herself, Jo hurried into the parlor to find Beth sobbing over Pip, the canary, who lay dead in the cage with his little claws pathetically extended, as if imploring the food for want of which he had died.
17 Here Meg meant to have a fountain, shrubbery, and a profusion of lovely flowers, though just at present the fountain was represented by a weather-beaten urn, very like a dilapidated slopbowl, the shrubbery consisted of several young larches, undecided whether to live or die, and the profusion of flowers was merely hinted by regiments of sticks to show where seeds were planted.
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