Farewell, farewell," said the swallow, with a heavy heart, as he left the warm countries, to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang "Tweet, tweet," and from his song came the whole story.

But the Emperor has nothing at all on!

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

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

I only appear to be dead.

It was clear to me, as I glanced back over my earlier life, that a loving Providence watched over me, that all was directed for me by a higher power.

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