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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.

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
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Fall Girl Grandmother Someone Stars
A human life is a story told by God.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Condolences Grief Human Life Sympathy
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Different Men Mind Precular
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 ANDERSEN

Age Fleeting Thinking
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Glorious Happiness Knowing Stars Years
She thought, “He whom I love more than my father or mother, he of whom I am always thinking, and in whose hands I would so willingly trust my lifelong happiness.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Father Happen Mother Winning
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Destiny Eternal Mermaid Winning
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
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
She laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Heart Laugh Thoughts Of Death
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Day Eye Fairy One Spiritual Talks
Brave soldier, never fear. Even though your death is near.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Brave Brave Soldiers Soldier
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Inspirational Moving Travel
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.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Gun Heart Morning
The naive was only a part of my fairy tales; humour was the real salt in them.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

Fairy Tale Real Salt