Hans Christian Andersen

Travelling expands the mind rarely.

word is a shadow,” said the shadow, “and as such it must speak.

"came to anything, very remarkable; and there they are for you." So saying, he gave Joanna the gingerbread man, who was still quite whole — and to Knud the broken maiden; but the children had been so much impressed by the story, that they had not the heart to eat the

It was the last night that she would
breathe the same air as he, or look out over the deep sea and up into the star-blue heaven. A dreamless,
eternal night awaited her, for she had no soul and had not been able to win one.

Life is like a beautiful melody, only the lyrics are messed up.

You are a dreamer, and that is your misfortune.

"I think I will sit on it a little while longer," said the duck, "as I have sat so long already, a few days will be nothing." "Please yourself," said the old duck, and she went away.

A woman of Copenhagen, with whom I travelled from Odense to this city, and who gladly, according to her means, would have supported me, obtained, through one of her acquaintance, a language-master, who gratuitously gave me some German lessons,

Some are created for beauty, and some for use; and there are some which one can do without altogether.

The good and the beautiful is not forgotten; it lives in legend and in song.

child, looking through bubbles into the future; now those bright bubbles were all behind him. Once more he had

Chi ha una casa in patria può provare nostalgia, ma chi nulla possiede si sente a casa ovunque.

A human life is a story told by God.

But these are small troubles, people will say. Yes, but they are drops which wear hollows in the rock.

Every author has some peculiarity in his descriptions or in his style of writing. Those who do not like him, magnify it, shrug up their shoulders, and exclaim __ there he is again!