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Andersen's Fairy Tales
Fairy tales and stories of H.C. Andersen
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Grimms' Fairy Tales
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Sleeping Beauty (Little Briar Rose)
The brothers Grimm →
The Bremen town musicians
The brothers Grimm →
Rapunzel
The brothers Grimm →
Fairytales and stories of Hans Christian Andersen
List of fairytales (Page 6)
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101
The beetle
The Emperor's horse was shod with gold - a golden shoe on each of its feet. And why was he getting golden shoes? He was a magnificent-looking animal, with slender legs, intelligent eyes, and a mane that hung down his neck like a soft veil of silk.
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102
What the old man does is always right
I will tell you a story that was told me when I was a little boy. Every time I thought of this story, it seemed to me more and more charming; for it is with stories as it is with many people– they become better as they grow older. I have no doubt that you have been in the country, and seen a very old farmhouse, with a thatched roof, and mosses and small plants growing wild upon it.
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103
The snowman
It is so delightfully cold, said the Snow Man, that it makes my whole body crackle. This is just the kind of wind to blow life into one. How that great red thing up there is staring at me! He meant the sun, who was just setting. It shall not make me wink. I shall manage to keep the pieces.
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104
In the duck yard
A duck arrived from Portugal. Some people said she came from Spain, but that doesn't really matter. She was called the Portuguese; she laid eggs, and was killed and dressed and cooked; that's the story of her life. But all the ducklings that were hatched from her eggs were also called Portuguese, and there's some distinction in that.
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105
The new century's Goddess
The New Century' s Goddess - whom our great-grandchildren or perhaps a still later generation will know, but we shall not - when and how does she reveal herself? What does she look like? What is the theme of her song? Whose heartstrings will she touch? To what heights will she lift her century? Why so many questions, in a busy day like ours, when poetry is very nearly superfluous, when it is agree
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106
The ice maiden
Let us visit Switzerland. Let us take a look at that magnificent land of mountains, where the forests creep up the sides of the steep rocky walls; let us climb to the dazzling snow-fields above, and descend again to the green valleys below, where the rivers and streams rush along as if afraid they will be too late to reach the ocean and disappear.
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107
The psyche
In the fresh morning dawn, in the rosy air gleams a great Star, the brightest Star of the morning. His rays tremble on the white wall, as if he wished to write down on it what he can tell, what he has seen there and elsewhere during thousands of years in our rolling world. Let us hear one of his stories.
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108
The snail and the rosebush
Around the garden ran a hedge of hazelnut bushes, and beyond it lay fields and meadows with cows and sheep; but in the middle of the garden stood a blooming Rosebush, and under it sat a Snail, who had a lot inside his shell - namely, himself. Wait till my time comes, it said.
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109
The old church bell
In the country of Wurtemburg, in Germany, where the acacias grow by the public road, where the apple-trees and the pear-trees in autumn bend to the earth with the weight of the precious fruit, lies the little town of Marbach.
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110
The silver shilling
There was once a shilling, which came forth from the mint springing and shouting, Hurrah! now I am going out into the wide world. And truly it did go out into the wide world. The children held it with warm hands, the miser with a cold and convulsive grasp, and the old people turned it about, goodness knows how many times, while the young people soon allowed it to roll away from them.
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111
The metal pig
In the city of Florence, not far from the Piazza del Granduca, runs a little street called Porta Rosa. In this street, just in front of the market-place where vegetables are sold, stands a pig, made of brass and curiously formed.
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112
The bond of friendship
We've recently made a little journey, and already we want to make a longer one. Where? To Sparta, or Mycenae, or Delphi? There are hundreds of places whose names make the heart pound with the love of travel. On horseback we climb mountain paths, through shrubs and brush. A single traveler looks like a whole caravan.
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113
A rose from Homer's grave
All the songs of the east speak of the love of the nightingale for the rose in the silent starlight night. The winged songster serenades the fragrant flowers. Not far from Smyrna, where the merchant drives his loaded camels, proudly arching their long necks as they journey beneath the lofty pines over holy ground, I saw a hedge of roses.
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114
A story
In the garden all the apple-trees were in blossom. They had hastened to bring forth flowers before they got green leaves, and in the yard all the ducklings walked up and down, and the cat too: it basked in the sun and licked the sunshine from its own paws.
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115
The silent book
On the highroad in the forest there stood a lonely farmhouse; the road passed right through its courtyard. All the windows were open to the warm sun; within the house there was bustling life, but out in the yard, under an arbor of blooming lilacs, there rested an open coffin. The dead man had been carried to it, and this morning he was to be buried.
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116
The snowdrop
It was winter-time; the air was cold, the wind was sharp, but within the closed doors it was warm and comfortable, and within the closed door lay the flower; it lay in the bulb under the snow-covered earth. One day rain fell. The drops penetrated through the snowy covering down into the earth, and touched the flower-bulb, and talked of the bright world above.
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117
The teapot
There was a proud Teapot, proud of being made of porcelain, proud of its long spout and its broad handle. It had something in front of it and behind it; the spout was in front, and the handle behind, and that was what it talked about. But it didn't mention its lid, for it was cracked and it was riveted and full of defects, and we don't talk about our defects - other people do that.
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118
The bird of folklore
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.
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119
The Will-o'-the-Wisps are in town, says the Moor-woman
There was a man who once knew many stories, but they had slipped away from him– so he said. The Story that used to visit him of its own accord no longer came and knocked at his door.
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120
The windmill
A windmill stood upon the hill, proud to look at, and it was proud too. I am not proud at all, it said, but I am very much enlightened without and within. I have sun and moon for my outward use, and for inward use too; and into the bargain I have stearine candles, train oil and lamps, and tallow candles. I may well say that I'm enlightened.
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The most beautiful fairytales of Andersen
The best fairytales →
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