Showing results for "Hans Christian Andersen" in Literature & Fiction

Hans Christian Andersens Märchen bezaubern, betören und berühren. Außergewöhnliche Figuren und Charaktere aus dem Märchen-Universum versetzen Sie in eine besondere Atmosphäre aus Spannung und Neugierde, in welcher Sie manch Überraschungen erwarten. Lassen Sie sich entführen und verführen in eine zauberhafte Welt, geprägt von magischen Momenten, mystischer Moral und Menschlichkeit.

The storks tell many, many stories to their young ones, all about the bogs and marshes. In general each story is suited to the age and sense of the little storks. While the youngest ones are satisfied with, "Kribble-krabble, plurry-murry," and think it a very fine story, the older ones demand something with more sense to it, or at least something about the family.

A couple of large ships were sent up toward the North Pole to discover the boundaries of land and sea and how far it would be possible for the human race to penetrate in that direction.

There was once a young man who studied to become a poet. He wanted to be a poet by next Easter, so that he could marry and earn his living from poetry, which he knew was just a matter of making things up. But he had no imagination. He firmly believed he had been born too late. Every subject had been used up before he had a chance at it, and there was nothing in the world left to write about.

Es war so schön draußen auf dem Land, es war Sommer – die Weizenfelder waren golden, der Hafer war grün, und unten zwischen den grünen Wiesen stand das Heu aufgestapelt. Dort schritt der Storch auf seinen roten Beinen umher und klapperte auf Ägyptisch, was die Sprache war, die seine Mutter ihn gelehrt hatte. Rund um die Felder und Wiesenländer erhoben sich riesige Wälder, in denen verborgene tiefe Seen lagen. Ja, es war in der Tat wunderschön dort draußen auf dem Land.

The country around the town of Kjöge is very bare. The town itself lies by the seashore, which is always beautiful, although it might be more beautiful than it is, because all around are flat fields, and a forest a long way off. But one always finds something beautiful in the spot that is one's own home, something for which one longs, even when one is in the most wonderful spot in the world.

There came a soldier marching down the high road-one, two! one, two! He had his knapsack on his back and his sword at his side as he came home from the wars. On the road he met a witch, an ugly old witch, a witch whose lower lip dangled right down on her chest.

There is an old fairy tale: "The Thorny Road of Honor was trodden by a marksman named Bryde, to whom came great honor and dignity, but not until after manifold adversities and peril of life." More than one of us had heard that tale in childhood, and perhaps read it in later years, and thought of his own unsung "thorny road" and "manifold adversities." Romance and reality are very nearly alike, but romance has its harmonious ending here on earth, while reality more often delays it and leads us to time and eternity.

Poor John was greatly troubled, because his father was very ill and could not recover. Except for these two, there was no one in their small room. The lamp on the table had almost burned out, for it was quite late at night.

A mother sat by her little child. She was so sad, so afraid he would die. The child's face was pallid. His little eyes were shut. His breath came faintly now, and then heavily as if he were sighing, and the mother looked more sadly at the dear little soul.

Once there was a poor prince. He had a kingdom; it was very tiny. Still, it was large enough to marry upon, and on marriage his heart was set. Now it was certainly rather bold of him to say, "Will you have me?" to the emperor's own daughter. But he did, for his name was famous, and far and near there were hundreds of princesses who would have said, "Yes!" and "Thank you!" too. But what did the emperor's daughter say? Well, we'll soon find out.

There was once a perfect gentleman whose whole household goods consisted of one bootjack and a comb. But he also had one of the most remarkable shirt collars in the world. I'll tell you a story about it.

The Red Shoes is a literary fairy tale by Danish poet and author Hans Christian Andersen first published by C.A. Reitzel in Copenhagen 7 April 1845 in New Fairy Tales. First Volume. Third Collection (Nye Eventyr. Første Bind. Tredie Samling). Other tales in the volume include The Elf Mound (Elverhøi), The Jumpers (Springfyrene), The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep (Hyrdinden og Skorstensfejeren), and Holger Danske (Holger Danske).

There was once a king's son, no one had so many beautiful books as he. In them he could read of everything that had ever happened in this world, and he could see it all pictured in fine illustrations. He could find out about every race of people and every country, but there was not a single word about where to find the Garden of Paradise, and this, just this, was the very thing that he thought most about.

There is a street in Copenhagen with a very strange name. It is called "Hysken" street. Where the name came from, and what it means is very uncertain. It is said to be German, but this is unjust to the Germans, for it would then be called "Hauschen," and not "Hysken." "Hauschen," means a little house; and for many years it consisted only of a few small houses, which were scarcely larger than the wooden booths we see in the market places at a fair time.

Now I'm going to tell you a story that I heard when I was a little fellow and that I like better and better the more I think of it. For it's the same with stories as with many people; the older they grow, the nicer they grow, and that is delightful.

The Neighbouring Families: One would certainly think that something quite unusual had happened in the duckpond to cause such a commotion, but nothing really had happened.

In the German country of Württemberg, where the beautiful acacia trees bloom beside the highways, and the apple and pear trees bend down in autumn under the weight of their ripe blessings, there lies the little town of Marbach. It belongs to the class of quite unimportant towns, but it is located in a beautiful spot near the Neckar, the river that flows swiftly past towns and green vineyards and old knights' castles, to join its waters with those of the proud Rhine.

"In this world things go up and down and down and up!" said Ole, the tower keeper. "Now I can't get any higher! Up and down and down and up; that's the fate of most of us; in fact, we all become tower keepers at last; we look at life and things from above."

There were so many toys in the nursery. On the top of the cabinet stood the penny bank, made of clay in the shape of a little pig. Of course, he had a slit in his back, which had been enlarged with a knife so that silver dollars also could be put in; and two such dollars had been slipped into the box, along with a great number of pennies. The Money Pig was stuffed so full he could no longer rattle, which is the highest honor a Money Pig can attain. There he stood, high up on the shelf, looking down on everything else in the room.