Sharp knives seemed to cut her delicate feet, yet she hardly felt them, so deep was the pain in her heart. She could not forget that this was the last night she would ever see the one for whom she had left her home and family, had given up her beautiful voice, and had day by day endured unending torment, of which he knew nothing at all. An eternal night awaited her.

Death walks faster than the wind and never returns what he has taken.

Well, yes: people write poems when they are in love, but a wise man will not print them.

Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

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

Every man's life is a fairy tale written by God's fingers.

But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.