My Life Is A Lovely Story, Happy

Far Out In The Ocean, Where The Water Is As Blue As The Prettiest Cornflower, And As Clear As Crystal, It Is Very, Very Deep; So Deep, Indeed, That No Cable Could Fathom It: Many Church Steeples, Piled One Upon Another, Would Not Reach From The Ground Beneath To The Surface Of The Water Above. There Dwell The Sea King And His Subjects.

Life Is Like A Beautiful Melody, Only The Lyrics Are Messed Up.

In The Days Of Moses And The Prophets Such A Man Would Have Been Counted Among The Wise Men Of The Land; In The Middle Ages He Would Have Been Burned At The Stake.

Sharp Knives Seemed To Cut Her Delicate Feet, Yet She Hardly Felt Them, So Deep Was The Pain In Her Heart. She Could Not Forget That This Was The Last Night She Would Ever See The One For Whom She Had Left Her Home And Family, Had Given Up Her Beautiful Voice, And Had Day By Day Endured Unending Torment, Of Which He Knew Nothing At All. An Eternal Night Awaited Her.

The Naive Was Only A Part Of My Fairy Tales; Humour Was The Real Salt In Them.