But The Emperor Has Nothing At All

I Have Shed Pewter Tears! It Is Too Melancholy! Rather Let Me Go To The Wars And Lose Arms And Legs! It Would At Least Be A Change. I Cannot Bear It Longer! Now, I Know What It Is To Have A Visit From One's Old Thoughts, With What They May Bring With Them! I Have Had A Visit From Mine, And You May Be Sure It Is No Pleasant Thing In The End; I Was At Last About To Jump Down From The Drawers.

Every Time A Good Child Dies, An Angel Of God Comes Down To Earth. He Takes The Child In His Arms, Spreads Out His Great White Wings, And Flies With It All Over The Places The Child Loved On Earth. The Angel Plucks A Large Handful Of Flowers, And They Carry It With Them Up To God, Where The Flowers Bloom More Brightly Than They Ever Did On Earth.

One Cannot Quite Trust The Word Of Potted Flowers," Thought The Butterfly; "they Have Too Much To Do With Men.

Being Born In A Duck Yard Does Not Matter, If Only You Are Hatched From A Swan's Egg.

Human Beings, On The Contrary, Have A Soul Which Lives Forever, Lives After The Body Has Been Turned To Dust. It Rises Up Through The Clear, Pure Air Beyond The Glittering Stars.