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This delightful collection of entertaining and calming stories is perfect for young listeners who love a mix of fun and relaxation. From heartwarming adventures to soothing bedtime tales, each story is crafted to spark imagination while creating a peaceful, comforting atmosphere. Whether it’s a magical journey, a friendly animal adventure, or a dreamy bedtime tale, Children Stories is the perfect companion for quiet moments, car rides, and winding down at the end of the day.

Die Märchen von Hans Christian Andersen (1805–1875) gehören zu dem zeitlosen Schatz der Weltliteratur. Sie sind für Kinder geschrieben, denen die Erwachsenen gleichwohl – so Andersen – über die Schultern blicken. Mit der Lesung von Axel Grube wird der besondere Zauber der Erzählungen in ihrer Nähe wie auch (geheimnisvollen) Tiefgründigkeit zu einem unmittelbaren Erlebnis. "Wer sich mit Kindern die Märchen von Grube erzählen lässt, macht die Feststellung, dass sie genauso gebannt lauschen wie die erwachsenen Märchenhörer." (Monika Klutzny / Die Welt).

"... mein Mythos (radikalisiert) im Grunde nur die Idee des Zimzum, diesen kosmogonischen Zentralbegriff, der Lurianischen Kabbala. Zimzum bedeutet Kontraktion, Rückzug, Selbsteinschränkung. Um Raum zu machen für die Welt, mußte der En-Ssof des Anfangs, der Unendliche, sich in sich selbst zusammenziehen und so außer sich die Leere, das Nichts entstehen lassen, in dem und aus dem er die Welt schaffen konnte. (…) Nachdem er sich ganz in die werdende Welt hineingab, hat Gott nichts mehr zu geben: jetzt ist es am Menschen, ihm zu geben.

"Wir sind Erben in dem, was wir sind, und im Entdecken des Vergangenen entdeckt sich verborgenes unser selbst. Und dabei geht es nun mal subjektivierend zu, das Persönliche mischt sich ein und damit die Zeitgebundenheit, die eigene Geschichtlichkeit des deutenden Subjekts. Das heißt auch, daß seine Sicht niemals das letzte Wort haben kann, wie sie ja auch in der Regel nicht das erste war." (Hans Jonas)"Es mag paradox erscheinen, daß der Philosoph der Möglichkeit des Glaubens mehr zugestanden hat als der vom Ansehen der Wissenschaft überwältigte Theologe.

What happens when an evil queen envies a princess for her beauty? How does the poor son of a farmer become the killer of giants? And what price is too high for a mermaid to become a human?

This delightful collection of short, calming stories is perfect for keeping little listeners entertained and relaxed on the go. From gentle animal tales to dreamy bedtime-style adventures, each story is designed to spark imagination and soothe restless minds—whether you're on a quick trip to the store or a long road journey.

In the narrow streets of the big town, toward evening when the sun was setting and the clouds shone like gold on the chimney tops, people would hear a strange sound like that of a church bell. But they heard it only for a few moments before it was lost in the rumble of city carriages and the voices of the multitudes, for such noises are very distracting. "Now the evening bell is ringing," people used to say. "The sun is setting."

Near the grass-covered rampart which encircles Copenhagen lies a great red house with many windows; in these grow balsams and plants of southernwood; the interior is sufficiently poverty-stricken; and poor and old are the people who inhabit it. The building is the Vartu Almshouse.

The Angel (Danish: Engelen) is a literary fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen. The tale was first published with three others in New Fairy Tales. First Volume. First Collection by C.A. Reitzel in November 1843. The four tales were received by the Danish critics with great acclaim. A child has died, and an angel is escorting him to Heaven. They wander over the earth for a while, visiting the child's favorite places. Along the way they gather flowers to transplant into the gardens of Heaven. The angel takes the child to a poverty-stricken area where a dead field lily lies in a trash heap.

Anne Lisbeth's complexion was like peaches and cream; her eyes were bright, her teeth shiny white; she was young, gay, and beautiful to look upon; her steps were light and her mind was even lighter. What would come of all this? "That awful brat," people said about her baby; and indeed he wasn't pretty, so he was left with the ditchdigger's wife.

It was in the month of May. The wind still blew cold, but bushes and trees, field and meadow, all alike said the spring had come. There was store of flowers even in the wild hedges; and there spring carried on his affairs, and preached from a little apple tree, where one branch hung fresh and blooming, covered with delicate pink blossoms that were just ready to open.

All the apple trees in the garden were blooming. They had hastened to cover themselves with blossoms before their green leaves were fully unfolded. All the ducklings were in the farmyard, and so was the cat; it basked in the sun and tried to lick the sunshine from its own paws.

It is wintertime, and the earth is covered with a layer of snow, as smooth as if it were marble cut from a mountain. The sky is high and clear, and the wind as sharp as an elfin-forged sword; the trees stand like white coral, or resemble blooming almond branches, and the air is as fresh as it is in the high Alps. The night is beautiful with streaming northern lights and countless twinkling stars.

On the day that the emperor's horse received his golden horseshoes as a reward for his heroic deeds, the beetle who shared his stable was very jealous. The smith refused to make shoes for his little feet and the beetle's anger went up a notch. So, furious, he left the stable and set off to discover the world alone.

Up north in Jutland there is a place known as the wild moor. There is a convent there. Many years ago there was a ship stranded not too far off shore. Instead of helping, the bishop’s men went and stole and plundered and murdered. Those poor people were all left dead and bloody.

There was once a sculptor, named Alfred, who having won the large gold medal and obtained a travelling scholarship, went to Italy, and then came back to his native land. He was young at that time-indeed, he is young still, although he is ten years older than he was then. On his return, he went to visit one of the little towns in the island of Zealand.

"Ding-dong! Ding-dong!" rings out from the Bell Deep in the Odense River. And what sort of river is that? Why, every child in Odense Town knows it well. It flows around the foot of the gardens, from the locks to the water mill, under the wooden bridges. Yellow water lilies grow in the river, and brown, featherlike reeds, and the black, velvety bulrushes, so high and so thick. Decayed old willow trees, bent and gnarled, hang far over the water beside the monks' marsh and the pale meadows; but a little above are the many gardens, each very different from the next.

Verhalen, nieuws en onzin over onze prachtige stad Medemblik. Met uw gastheren Pieter Steeman en Hans Nipshagen.

Have you ever asked yourself why airplane windows have a small hole? Why your digestive system makes itself known with particular vigor high up in the air? If turbulence is actually as dangerous as it feels? Wouldn't it be great to have these questions answered by someone who actually sits up front in the cockpit? Impossible? Not anymore! Experienced Pilot Hans-Georg Rabacher takes you on board with him and provides exciting insights into the world of flying.

This delightful collection of short fairy tales is filled with wonder, imagination, and heartwarming moments that children of all ages will love. From clever heroes and kind-hearted creatures to mystical lands and unforgettable adventures, each story is crafted to entertain, inspire, and spark curiosity.