spread a snow-white tablecloth

It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but–the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.9

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was ; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast,10 till it came up to the poor little girl; when–the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree:11 it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant’s house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when–the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now
as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.

“Someone is just dead!”12 said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her,13 and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.14

to drip into injury

Night so quiet, quiet let a person a little want to cry, the reality is so cruel, cruel to let a person sad, miss feeling is so clear, clear to some of the pain, the pain is so real, real let people numb, with silence and cool to cover all nervous and at a loss, and despair, forget the sorrow and pain old buried in memory, there is one kind of inveterate habit called sad, there is one kind of forget pain called heartache HKUE DSE.

I like the night, it is always so charming. Tonight, the first one time, however, feel that also can let people are afraid of the long night! The first one, will be so confused, I don’t know what I was going to do in this one night, what can I do? Huddled up in the corner of the only oneself every day, listening to music, listening to music, and then quietly writing those words, one person cry, maybe I have already accustomed to, just want to write down some point about a person’s mood, but the last even oneself all began to miss in the miss world.

Like quiet of the night to appreciate the sad words, to experience a variety of life in sadness, melancholy style not futz around, it is one point between the eyebrow Diane cinnabar, is one kind of graceful and restrained, like to use such words to release inner repression. Sad, not because of pain, also not deliberately create a sorrow; Sad is one kind of life attitude, one kind of most real emotional displays, sad people, must be emotional, only perceptual person to write a touching poem, and sad sentences the extraordinary rendering force, stroke of guard, will be defeated, one reading into injury. On the eye to dense happiness not only, still can express grief, between the lines, the penetration is wen wan, sometimes sometimes melancholy, sometimes lazy, sometimes is lofty sentiments, realize emotional color of text and drive the mood of the owner of the barge text is one of it HKUE DSE.

There are always some of the past, in the words made longing for you, always have some sentences, One line missing paragraphs, one sad wan piece of music, one of the remaining, one open to close end/ethereal can bring people into the sad atmosphere, emotional and moving things will always be those who challenge, like those sad sentences, Ming know it is a poignant one strands of poison, not refused to, met will no immunity to be infected, words of grief, is one kind of aestheticism, traveling in silent listen to fall, gradually understand: life always has many helpless, hope, disappointed, accept, straying, the buildings of life, no one changes had crisscrossed once, just in the back of drifting away, those who hurt, cried, all become strong; Those who cannot bear to forget, not forget for a moment, all dry become scenery Motor Insurance.