Well, yes: people write poems when they are in love, but a wise man will not print them.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENShe laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart.
More Hans Christian Andersen Quotes
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Just living is not enough… one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.
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Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan’s egg.
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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.
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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.
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I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.
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We haven’t yet got eyes that can gaze into all the splendour that God has created, but we shall get them one day; and that will be the finest fairy tale of all, for we shall be in it ourselves.
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The sun shines upon good and bad alike.
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Every town, like every man, has its own countenance; they have a common likeness and yet are different; one keeps in his mind all their peculiar touches.
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Time is so fleeting that if we do not remember God in our youth, age may find us incapable of thinking of him.
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Well, it’s not so easy to give an answer when you ask a stupid question!
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Some are created for beauty, and some for use; and there are some which one can do without altogether.
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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.
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Brave soldier, never fear. Even though your death is near.
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Enjoy life. There’s plenty of time to be dead.
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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