Dzielny ołowiany żołnierzyk oraz ; Księżniczka na ziarnku grochu

Dzielny ołowiany żołnierzyk oraz ; Księżniczka na ziarnku grochu PDF Author: Hans Christian Andersen
Publisher:
ISBN: 9780710505781
Category : Fairy tales
Languages : en
Pages : 32

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Book Description
After being accidentally launched on a dangerous and terrible voyage, a one-legged soldier finds his way back to his true love--a paper dancing girl, and a young girl feels a pea through twenty mattresses and twenty featherbeds and proves that she is a real princess in these two Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales.

Dzielny ołowiany żołnierzyk oraz ; Księżniczka na ziarnku grochu

Dzielny ołowiany żołnierzyk oraz ; Księżniczka na ziarnku grochu PDF Author: Hans Christian Andersen
Publisher:
ISBN: 9780710505781
Category : Fairy tales
Languages : en
Pages : 32

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Book Description
After being accidentally launched on a dangerous and terrible voyage, a one-legged soldier finds his way back to his true love--a paper dancing girl, and a young girl feels a pea through twenty mattresses and twenty featherbeds and proves that she is a real princess in these two Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales.

Księżniczka na ziarnku grochu

Księżniczka na ziarnku grochu PDF Author:
Publisher:
ISBN: 9788371183652
Category :
Languages : pl
Pages : 12

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Book Description


Bibliografia polskich przekładów z literatury pie̜knej krajów skandynawskich do roku 1969 wła̜cznie

Bibliografia polskich przekładów z literatury pie̜knej krajów skandynawskich do roku 1969 wła̜cznie PDF Author: Ewa Suchodolska
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : Polish literature
Languages : pl
Pages : 334

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Book Description


The True Story of My Life: A Sketch

The True Story of My Life: A Sketch PDF Author: Hans Christian Andersen
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
ISBN: 1465603816
Category :
Languages : en
Pages :

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Book Description
ÊMy life is a lovely story, happy and full of incident. If, when I was a boy, and went forth into the world poor and friendless, a good fairy had met me and said, "Choose now thy own course through life, and the object for which thou wilt strive, and then, according to the development of thy mind, and as reason requires, I will guide and defend thee to its attainment," my fate could not, even then, have been directed more happily, more prudently, or better. The history of my life will say to the world what it says to meÑThere is a loving God, who directs all things for the best. My native land, Denmark, is a poetical land, full of popular traditions, old songs, and an eventful history, which has become bound up with that of Sweden and Norway. The Danish islands are possessed of beautiful beech woods, and corn and clover fields: they resemble gardens on a great scale. Upon one of these green islands, Funen, stands Odense, the place of my birth. Odense is called after the pagan god Odin, who, as tradition states, lived here: this place is the capital of the province, and lies twenty-two Danish miles from Copenhagen. In the year 1805 there lived here, in a small mean room, a young married couple, who were extremely attached to each other; he was a shoemaker, scarcely twenty-two years old, a man of a richly gifted and truly poetical mind. His wife, a few years older than himself, was ignorant of life and of the world, but possessed a heart full of love. The young man had himself made his shoemaking bench, and the bedstead with which he began housekeeping; this bedstead he had made out of the wooden frame which had borne only a short time before the coffin of the deceased Count Trampe, as he lay in state, and the remnants of the black cloth on the wood work kept the fact still in remembrance. Instead of a noble corpse, surrounded by crape and wax-lights, here lay, on the second of April, 1805, a living and weeping child,Ñthat was myself, Hans Christian Andersen. During the first day of my existence my father is said to have sate by the bed and read aloud in Holberg, but I cried all the time. "Wilt thou go to sleep, or listen quietly?" it is reported that my father asked in joke; but I still cried on; and even in the church, when I was taken to be baptized, I cried so loudly that the preacher, who was a passionate man, said, "The young one screams like a cat!" which words my mother never forgot. A poor emigrant, Gomar, who stood as godfather, consoled her in the mean time by saying that the louder I cried as a child, all the more beautifully should I sing when I grew older.