Life is like a beautiful melody, only the lyrics are messed up.

But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.

Enjoy life. There’s plenty of time to be dead.

He looked at the little maiden, and she looked at him; and he felt that he was melting away, but he still managed to keep himself erect, shouldering his gun bravely. A door was suddenly...

Death walks faster than the wind and never returns what he has taken.

His own image; no longer a dark, gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan. To be born in a duck’s nest, in a farmyard, is of no consequence...

Almighty God, thee only have I; thou steerest my fate, I must give myself up to thee! Give me a livelihood! Give me a bride! My blood wants love, as my heart does!

Travelling expands the mind rarely.

Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be the best. Oh, hear them not;

[…] and the pea was put in the museum, where it can still be seen, if no one has stolen it.

Then your tail will divide and shrink until it becomes what the people on earth call a pair of shapely legs. But it will hurt; it will feel as if a sharp sword slashed through...

It doesn’t matter if you’re born in a duck yard, so long as you are hatched from a swan’s egg!

Never had she danced so beautifully; the sharp knives cut her feet, but she did not feel it, for the pain in her heart was far greater.

Donc, il faudra que je meure et flotte comme écume sur la mer et n’entende jamais plus la musique des vagues, ne voit plus les fleurs ravissantes et le rouge soleil. Ne puis-je rien faire...

I can give her no greater power than she has already, said the woman; don’t you see how strong that is? How men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well she has...

Then little Gerda said the Lord’s Prayer; the cold was so intense that she could see her own breath; it came out of her mouth like smoke. Her breath became thicker and thicker, and took...

Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly, “one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

My life will be the best illustration of all my work.

To travel is to live.

A human life is a story told by God.

To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,To gain all while you give,To roam the roads of lands remote,To travel is to live.

La vida de cada hombre es un cuento de hadas escrito por la mano de Dios.