Life holds one great but quite commonplace mystery. Though shared by each of us and known to all, seldom rates a second thought. That mystery, which most of us take for granted and never think twice about, is time.
Momo listened to everyone and everything – even to the rain and the wind and the pine trees – and all of them spoke to her after their own fashion.
A story can be new and yet tell about olden times. The past comes into existence with the story.
Strange as it may seem, horror loses its power to frighten when repeated too often.
Time is life itself, and life resides in the human heart.
Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold.
He had been through a good deal in the course of the Great Quest – he had seen beautiful things and horrible things – but up until now he had not known that one and the same creature can be both, that beauty can be terrifying.
Human passions have mysterious ways, in children as well as grown-ups. Those affected by them can’t explain them, and those who haven’t known them have no understanding of them at all.
Only the right name gives beings and things their reality. A wrong name makes everything unreal. That’s what lies do.
No architect troubled to design houses that suited people who were to live in them, because that would have meant building a whole range of different houses. It was far cheaper and, above all, timesaving to make them identical.
Those who still think that listening isn’t an art should see if they can do it half as well.
People? People have been obsolete for years, They’ve made the world a place where there’s no room left for their own kind.
You don’t feel a thing. There’s just something missing. And once it gets hold of you, something more is missing every day. Soon there won’t be anything left of us.
Maybe all the people who say ghosts don’t exist are just afraid to admit that they do.
To be wise was to be above joy and sorrow, fear and pity, ambition and humiliation. It was to hate nothing and to love nothing, and above all to be utterly indifferent to the love and hate of others.
Lots of things take time, and time was Momo’s only form of wealth.
My will can control anything that’s empty.
Wishes cannot be summoned up or kept away at will. They come from deeper within us than good or bad intentions. And they spring up unannounced.
But that is another story and shall be told another time.
There are many kinds of delusion.