The Little Match Man

ldn’t believe it, anyway; and there are so many stupid people that I should seem lik

d not being able to walk about the streets, decorated with lanterns and weathercocks, and through the gardens ful

like a dog in f

hich to amuse myself. After a thorough search, all I found was a box of matches. For lack of anything else to do they mig

with three matches even a genius can’t make anything bu

ore short trousers and went to school, and always had my pockets stuffed full of marbl

ether and make arms and legs, and so transform them into

1

matches had become the little man that I remembered; an

ierce warrior. Then I changed him into a calm and civilized person, and made hi

little match[1]

by himself and lonely. If you look over the manuscripts of illustrious scientists and celebrated writers, you will see here and there the same k

[16] possible to hold long and animated discussions. But in these days my imagination is worn out. After a few minutes, my little man looked to me like no

, I will now strik

1

an moved, and falling on his knees

d to see if there was anywhere a bit of string that I had pulled without meaning to. But no, I found nothing. The little man remained quite still in his new position, until at last

held out his arms, and slowly rose to his feet. I could hear a tiny voice, which seemed to come from him, b