To Travel Is To Live.

Farewell, Farewell," Said The Swallow, With A Heavy Heart, As He Left The Warm Countries, To Fly Back Into Denmark. There He Had A Nest Over The Window Of A House In Which Dwelt The Writer Of Fairy Tales. The Swallow Sang "tweet, Tweet," And From His Song Came The Whole Story.

Sharp Knives Seemed To Cut Her Delicate Feet, Yet She Hardly Felt Them, So Deep Was The Pain In Her Heart. She Could Not Forget That This Was The Last Night She Would Ever See The One For Whom She Had Left Her Home And Family, Had Given Up Her Beautiful Voice, And Had Day By Day Endured Unending Torment, Of Which He Knew Nothing At All. An Eternal Night Awaited Her.

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.

My Life Is A Lovely Story, Happy And Full Of Incident.

Almighty God, Thee Only Have I; Thou Steerest My Fate, I Must Give Myself Up To Thee! Give Me A Livelihood! Give Me A Bride! My Blood Wants Love, As My Heart Does!