Evil is also not anything small or close to home, and not the worst; otherwise one could grow accustomed to it.

My mother, she killed me, My father, he ate me, My sister Marlene, Gathered all my bones, Tied them in a silken scarf, Laid them beneath the juniper tree, Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird am I.

Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.

In the olden days, when wishing still worked, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest daughter was so lovely that even the sun... was struck with wonder.

Chemistry is a gibberish of Latin and German; but in Leibig's hands it becomes a powerful language.

He who is too well off is always longing for something new.

Then up he got with a light heart, free from all his troubles, and walked on till he reached his mother's house, and told her how very easy the road to good luck was.