- "Matches, matches, I have matches made of good wood." But no one was paying attention to the little girl selling matches. The biting cold and the heavy snow made people hurry to get home to warm themselves by the stove and enjoy the dinner of New Year's Eve. It was New Year's Eve.

- "Matches, matches," the little girl kept saying in a voice so weak that no one could hear her. She was only ten years old and wore a tattered dress full of patches. Her long blonde hair fell around her pale little face. Her fingers, numb from the cold, struggled to hold the edges of her apron, where she had tucked the matches inside.