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You think of nothing but poetry, and only ask about that Story, as if she were the lady of the whole troop. She's the oldest of us all, but she takes precedence of the youngest. I know her well. I've been young, too, and she's no chicken now. I was once quite a pretty elf-maiden, and have danced in my time with the others in the moonlight, and have heard the nightingale, and have gone into the forest and met the Story-maiden, who was always to be found out there, running about. Sometimes she took up her night's lodging in a half-blown tulip, or in a field flower; sometimes she would slip into the church, and wrap herself in the mourning crape that hung down from the candles on the altar."

Sometimes she took up her night's lodging in a half-blown tulip, or in a field flower; sometimes she would slip into the church, and wrap herself in the mourning crape that hung down from the candles on the altar." "You are capitally well-informed," said the man. "I ought at least to know as much as you," answered the Moor-woman. "Stories and poetry- yes, they're like two yards of the same piece of stuff; they can go and lie down where they like, and one can brew all their prattle, and have it all the better and cheaper.

You shall have it from me for nothing. I have a whole cupboard-full of poetry in bottles. It makes essences; and that's the best of it- bitter and sweet herbs. I have everything that people want of poetry, in bottles, so that I can put a little on my handkerchief, on holidays, to smell." "Why, these are wonderful things that you're telling!" said the man. "You have poetry in bottles?" "More than you can require," said the woman. "I suppose you know the history of 'the Girl who Trod on the Loaf, so that she might not soil her shoes'? That has been written, and printed too."
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The hero of the piece would only play in a part containing points likely to bring down the applause of the house. The 'prima donna' would only act when the lights were red, for she declared that a blue light did not suit her complexion. It was like a company of flies in a bottle, and I was in the bottle with them; for I was their director. My breath was taken away, my head whirled, and I was as miserable as a man could be. It was quite a novel, strange set of beings among whom I now found myself.

My breath was taken away, my head whirled, and I was as miserable as a man could be. It was quite a novel, strange set of beings among whom I now found myself. I only wished I had them all in my box again, and that I had never been their director. So I told them roundly that, after all, they were nothing but puppets; and then they killed me. After a while I found myself lying on my bed in my room; but how I got there, or how I got away at all from the Polytechnic professor, he may perhaps know, I don't.

The moon shone upon the floor, the box lay open, and the dolls were all scattered about in great confusion; but I was not idle. I jumped off the bed, and into the box they all had to go, some on their heads, some on their feet. Then I shut down the lid, and seated myself upon the box. 'Now you'll have to stay,' said I, 'and I shall be cautious how I wish you flesh and blood again.' "I felt quite light, my cheerfulness had returned, and I was the happiest of mortals. The Polytechnic professor had fully cured me.
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But as for me, I had gone quite beyond all lapse of time, and had become a cipher and a nothing. Then three or four beautiful falling stars came down, which cleared the air, and gave my thoughts another direction. You know what a falling star is, do you not? The learned men are not at all clear about it. I have my own ideas about shooting stars, as the common people in many parts call them, and my idea is this: How often are silent thanksgivings offered up for one who has done a good and noble action! The thanks are often speechless, but they are not lost for all that.

I have my own ideas about shooting stars, as the common people in many parts call them, and my idea is this: How often are silent thanksgivings offered up for one who has done a good and noble action! The thanks are often speechless, but they are not lost for all that. I think these thanks are caught up, and the sunbeams bring the silent, hidden thankfulness over the head of the benefactor; and if it be a whole people that has been expressing its gratitude through a long lapse of time, the thankfulness appears as a nosegay of flowers, and at length falls in the form of a shooting star over the good man's grave.

I am always very much pleased when I see a shooting star, especially in the New Year's night, and then find out for whom the gift of gratitude was intended. Lately a gleaming star fell in the southwest, as a tribute of thanksgiving to many- many! 'For whom was that star intended?' thought I. It fell, no doubt, on the hill by the Bay of Plensberg, where the Danebrog waves over the graves of Schleppegrell, Lasloes, and their comrades. One star also fell in the midst of the land, fell upon Soro, a flower on the grave of Holberg, the thanks of the year from a great many - thanks for his charming plays! "It is a great and pleasant thought to know that a shooting star falls upon our graves.
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Here, she knew, lived the executioner; and she tapped with her finger at the window and said: "Come out, come out! I cannot come in, for I must dance." And the executioner said: "I don't suppose you know who I am. I strike off the heads of the wicked, and I notice that my axe is tingling to do so." "Don't cut off my head!" said Karen, "for then I could not repent of my sin. But cut off my feet with the red shoes." And then she confessed all her sin, and the executioner struck off her feet with the red shoes; but the shoes danced away with the little feet across the field into the deep forest.

And he carved her a pair of wooden feet and some crutches, and taught her a psalm which is always sung by sinners; she kissed the hand that guided the axe, and went away over the heath. "Now, I have suffered enough for the red shoes," she said; "I will go to church, so that people can see me." And she went quickly up to the church-door; but when she came there, the red shoes were dancing before her, and she was frightened, and turned back. During the whole week she was sad and wept many bitter tears, but when Sunday came again she said: "Now I have suffered and striven enough.

During the whole week she was sad and wept many bitter tears, but when Sunday came again she said: "Now I have suffered and striven enough. I believe I am quite as good as many of those who sit in church and give themselves airs." And so she went boldly on; but she had not got farther than the churchyard gate when she saw the red shoes dancing along before her. Then she became terrified, and turned back and repented right heartily of her sin. She went to the parsonage, and begged that she might be taken into service there.
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Then they passed over well-known spots, where the little one had often played, and through beautiful gardens full of lovely flowers. "Which of these shall we take with us to heaven to be transplanted there?" asked the angel. Close by grew a slender, beautiful, rose-bush, but some wicked hand had broken the stem, and the half-opened rosebuds hung faded and withered on the trailing branches. "Poor rose-bush!" said the child, "let us take it with us to heaven, that it may bloom above in God's garden." "Poor rose-bush!" said the child, "let us take it with us to heaven, that it may bloom above in God's garden." The angel took up the rose-bush; then he kissed the child, and the little one half opened his eyes. The angel gathered also some beautiful flowers, as well as a few humble buttercups and heart's-ease. "Now we have flowers enough," said the child; but the angel only nodded, he did not fly upward to heaven. It was night, and quite still in the great town.
Here they remained, and the angel hovered over a small, narrow street, in which lay a large heap of straw, ashes, and sweepings from the houses of people who had removed. There lay fragments of plates, pieces of plaster, rags, old hats, and other rubbish not pleasant to see. Amidst all this confusion, the angel pointed to the pieces of a broken flower-pot, and to a lump of earth which had fallen out of it. The earth had been kept from falling to pieces by the roots of a withered field-flower, which had been thrown amongst the rubbish.
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I cannot, vext and harass'd as I am, Feed all, and should the stranger take offence, The worse for him. Plain truth is my delight. To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. Nor is it my desire to be detained. Better the mendicant in cities seeks 20 His dole, vouchsafe it whosoever may, Than in the villages. I am not young, Nor longer of an age that well accords With rural tasks, nor could I all perform That it might please a master to command. Go then, and when I shall have warm'd my limbs Before the hearth, and when the risen sun Shall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant's task Shall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd'st, For this is a vile garb; the frosty air 30 Of morning would benumb me thus attired, And, as ye say, the city is remote.

Go then, and when I shall have warm'd my limbs Before the hearth, and when the risen sun Shall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant's task Shall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd'st, For this is a vile garb; the frosty air 30 Of morning would benumb me thus attired, And, as ye say, the city is remote. He ended, and Telemachus in haste Set forth, his thoughts all teeming as he went With dire revenge. Soon in the palace-courts Arriving, he reclined his spear against A column, and proceeded to the hall.

Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived, While on the variegated seats she spread Their fleecy cov'ring; swift with tearful eyes 40 She flew to him, and the whole female train Of brave Ulysses swarm'd around his son, Clasping him, and his forehead and his neck Kissing affectionate; then came, herself, As golden Venus or Diana fair, Forth from her chamber to her son's embrace, The chaste Penelope; with tears she threw Her arms around him, his bright-beaming eyes And forehead kiss'd, and with a murmur'd plaint Maternal, in wing'd accents thus began.
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