Henrik Ibsen

You are an odd little soul. Very like your father. You always find some new way of wheedling money out of me, and, as soon as you have got it, it seems to melt in your hands.

you think and talk like a heedless child.

Nora. Maybe. But you neither think nor talk like the man I could bind myself to.

There can be no freedom or beauty about a home life that depends on borrowing and debt

Is it my little squirrel bustling about?

Nora! (Goes up to her and takes her playfully by the ear.)

me as he is now; when my dancing and dressing-up and reciting have palled on him; then it may be a good thing to

and earning money. It was like being a man.

Mrs. Linde. How much have

to be able to keep the house beautifully and have everything just as Torvald likes it

But don't let us think of business; it is so tiresome

What do I care about tiresome Society? I am laughing at something quite different