I Covet Honour In The

Each Soldier Was The Living Image Of The Others, But There Was One Who Was A Bit Different. He Had Only One Leg, For He Was The Last To Be Cast And The Tin Had Run Out. Still, There He Stood, Just As Steadfast On His One Leg As The Others On Their Two; And He Is The Tin Soldier We Are Going To Hear About.

Every Man's Life Is A Fairy Tale Written By God's Fingers.

I Covet Honour In The Same Way As A Miser Covets Gold.

To Travel Is To Live.

Every Town, Like Every Man, Has Its Own Countenance; They Have A Common Likeness And Yet Are Different; One Keeps In His Mind All Their Peculiar Touches.