trích dẫn

"A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing."
"A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal."
"A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies."
"A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction."
"A poet can survive everything but a misprint."
"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it."
"A true friend stabs bạn in the front."
"A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament."
"Ah, well, then I suppose I shall have to die beyond my means."
"Alas, I am dying beyond my means."...

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the cỏ stood beautiful hoa like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of màu hồng, hồng and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. "How happy we are here!" they cried to each other.

One ngày the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend...

One evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image of The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment. And he went forth into the world to look for bronze. For he could only think in bronze.

But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the bronze of the image of The Sorrow that endureth for Ever.

Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned, and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life. On the tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this image of his...

She đã đưa ý kiến that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

From her nest in the holm-oak cây the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."

"Here at last is a true lover," đã đưa ý kiến the Nightingale. "Night after night...

The King's son was going to be married, so there were general rejoicings. He had waited a whole năm for his bride, and at last she had arrived. She was a Russian Princess, and had driven all the way from Finland in a sledge drawn bởi six reindeer. The sledge was shaped like a great golden swan, and between the swan's wings lay the little Princess herself. Her long ermine-cloak reached right down to her feet, on her head was a tiny mũ lưỡi trai, cap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she had always lived. So pale was she that as she drove through the streets all the people wondered....