“I suppose I ought to tell a story, but I don’t know anymore,” said the old man.
“You can make one up, I know,” said the boy. “Mother says that you can turn anything you look at into a story, and everything even that you touch.”
“Ah, but that kind of tale and story is worth nothing. The real ones come of themselves. They knock at the forehead and say ‘Here we are!'”
“Won’t there be a knock soon?” said the boy. And his mother laughed, while she put elder flowers in the teapot and poured boiling water over them. “Please tell me a story.”
“Yes – if a story comes of itself. But tales and stories are very grand – they only come when it pleases them.”

-from Elder Tree Mother by Hans Christian Andersen