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.

Now, if we only had as many casks of butter as there are people here, then I would eat lots of butter!

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.

Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.

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. 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.

The whole world is a series of miracles, but we're so used to them we call them ordinary things.

Many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea.