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.

Brave soldier, never fear. Even though your death is near.

Each soldier was the living image of the others, but there was one who was a bit different. He had only one leg, for he was the last to be cast and the tin had run out. Still, there he stood, just as steadfast on his one leg as the others on their two; and he is the tin soldier we are going to hear about.

My life is a lovely story, happy and full of incident.

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

Enjoy life. There's plenty of time to be dead.

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.