I Only Appear To Be Dead.

No, The Light Is Too Intense; We Do Not Yet Have Eyes That Can See All The Glory God Has Created. But Maybe Someday We Will Have Such Eyes. That Will Be The Most Wonderful Fairy Tale Of All, For We Ourselves Will Be Part Of It.

Then He Rustled His Feathers, Curved His Slender Neck, And Cried Joyfully, From The Depths Of His Heart, 'i Never Dreamed Of Such Happiness As This, While I Was An Ugly Duckling.

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.

Happy Domestic Life Is Like A Beautiful Summer's Evening; The Heart Is Filled With Peace; And Everything Around Derives A Peculiar Glory.

Life Is Like A Beautiful Melody, Only The Lyrics Are Messed Up.