One Cannot Quite Trust The Word Of

‎"does All The Beauty Of The World Stop When You Die?" "no," Said The Old Oak; "it Will Last Much Longer - Longer Than I Can Even Think Of." "well, Then," Said The Little May-fly, "we Have The Same Time To Live; Only We Reckon Differently.

Death Walks Faster Than The Wind And Never Returns What He Has Taken.

But The Emperor Has Nothing At All On!

If You Looked Down To The Bottom Of My Soul, You Would Understand Fully The Source Of My Longing And – Pity Me. Even The Open, Transparent Lake Has Its Unknown Depths, Which No Divers Know.

In The Middle Of A Garden Grew A Rose Tree; It Was Full Of Roses, And In The Loveliest Of Them All Lived An Elf. He Was So Tiny That No Human Eye Could See Him. He Had A Snug Little Room Behind Every Petal Of The Rose. He Was As Well Made And As Perfect As Any Human Child, And He Had Wings Reaching From His Shoulders To His Feet. Oh, What A Delicious Scent There Was In His Room, And How Lovely And Transparent The Walls Were, For They Were Palest Pink, Rose Petals.