Where words fail, music speaks.
Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale of all.
Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.
Most of the people who will walk behind me will be children so make the beat keep time with short steps.
It is the power of thought that gives man power over nature.
Every man's life is a fairy-tale written by God's fingers.
To move, to breathe, to fly, to float, to gain all while you give, to roam the roads of the lands remote, to travel is to live.
Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.
Every man's life is a fairy tale written by God's fingers.
Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.
I cannot bear it! said the pewter soldier.
I have shed pewter tears! It is too melancholy! Rather let me go to the wars and lose arms and legs! It would at least be a change. I cannot bear it longer! Now, I know what it is to have a visit from one's old thoughts, with what they may bring with them! I have had a visit from mine, and you may be sure it is no pleasant thing in the end; I was at last about to jump down from the drawers.
Many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea.
....Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing; for he did not know what to do, he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder-tree bent down its bows into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. He would never became vain or conceited, and would always remembered how it felt to be despised and teased, and he was very sorry for all the creatures who are so treated merely because they are different from those around them. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart,
To travel is to live.