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

When the bird of the heart begins to sing, too often will reason stop up her ears.

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

Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.

Don't ask me how I am! I understand nothing more!

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.

Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.