Mermaids Have No Tears, And So They

We Haven't Yet Got Eyes That Can Gaze Into All The Splendour That God Has Created, But We Shall Get Them One Day; And That Will Be The Finest Fairy Tale Of All, For We Shall Be In It Ourselves.

To Move, To Breathe, To Fly, To Float, To Gain All While You Give, To Roam The Roads Of Lands Remote, To Travel Is To Live.

‎"does All The Beauty Of The World Stop When You Die?" "no," Said The Old Oak; "it Will Last Much Longer - Longer Than I Can Even Think Of." "well, Then," Said The Little May-fly, "we Have The Same Time To Live; Only We Reckon Differently.

Human Beings, On The Contrary, Have A Soul Which Lives Forever, Lives After The Body Has Been Turned To Dust. It Rises Up Through The Clear, Pure Air Beyond The Glittering Stars.

He Looked At The Little Maiden, And She Looked At Him; And He Felt That He Was Melting Away, But He Still Managed To Keep Himself Erect, Shouldering His Gun Bravely. A Door Was Suddenly Opened, The Draught Caught The Little Dancer And She Fluttered Like A Sylph, Straight Into The Fire, To The Soldier, Blazed Up And Was Gone! By This Time The Soldier Was Reduced To A Mere Lump, And When The Maid Took Away The Ashes Next Morning She Found Him, In The Shape Of A Small Tin Heart. All That Was Left Of The Dancer Was Her Spangle, And That Was Burnt As Black As A Coal.