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And the Top spoke no more of his old love; for that dies away when the beloved objects has lain for five years in a roof gutter and got wet through; yes, one does not know her again when one meets her in the dust box.

Hans Christian Andersen

It is out of reality that the most peculiar tale of all is born … Some call me the Elder Granny, others – the Dryad, but my real name is Memory. It is I who sits on a tree that keeps on growing, and growing, it is I who reminisces and tells stories.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Memories Names Real
Now, if we only had as many casks of butter as there are people here, then I would eat lots of butter!
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Butter Many People
The wiser a man becomes, the more he will read, and those who are wisest read most.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Men Wiser Wisest
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Change Legs Tears War
A human life is a story told by God.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Condolences Grief Human Life Sympathy
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Longer Old Pleasant Sure Thoughts
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!
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Blood Fate Heart Street
I have gone through the most terrible affair that could possibly happen; only imagine, my shadow has gone mad; I suppose such a poor, shallow brain, could not bear much; he fancies that he has become a real man, and that I am his shadow.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Mad Men Possibly Real Shadow Support
At first she was overjoyed that he would be with her, but then she recalled that human people could not live under the water, and he could only visit her father’s palace as a dead man.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Dead Father Human Men People
Well, yes: people write poems when they are in love, but a wise man will not print them.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Men Wise Writing
Brave soldier, never fear. Even though your death is near.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Brave Brave Soldiers Soldier
Well, it’s not so easy to give an answer when you ask a stupid question!
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Answers Giving Stupid
Happy domestic life is like a beautiful summer’s evening; the heart is filled with peace; and everything around derives a peculiar glory.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Beautiful Glory Happiness Summer
There was once a merchant who was so rich that he might have paved the whole street, and a little alley besides, with silver money. But he didn’t do it–he knew better how to use his money than that.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Littles might Money Street Use
And the Top spoke no more of his old love; for that dies away when the beloved objects has lain for five years in a roof gutter and got wet through; yes, one does not know her again when one meets her in the dust box.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Dust Gutter Love Spoke Top Years
Farewell, farewell,” said the swallow, with a heavy heart, as he left the warm countries, to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang “Tweet, tweet,” and from his song came the whole story.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Country Farewell Over Song