Time is so fleeting that if we do not remember God in our youth, age may find us incapable of thinking of him.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENEnjoy life. There’s plenty of time to be dead.
More Hans Christian Andersen Quotes
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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.
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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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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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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.
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A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny.
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Now, if we only had as many casks of butter as there are people here, then I would eat lots of butter!
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Brave soldier, never fear. Even though your death is near.
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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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The wiser a man becomes, the more he will read, and those who are wisest read most.
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I know what you want. It is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. – The sea witch.
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Well, it’s not so easy to give an answer when you ask a stupid question!
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A human life is a story told by God.
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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.
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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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Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.
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