Nothing Is Lost. . .everything Is Transformed.

Bastian Had Climbed A Dune Of Purplish-red Sand And All Around Him He Saw Nothing But Hill After Hill Of Every Imaginable Color. Each Hill Revealed A Shade Or Tint That Occured In No Other. The Nearest Was Cobalt Blue, Another Was Saffron Yellow, Then Came Crimson Red, Then Indigo, Apple Green, Sky Blue, Orange, Peach, Mauve, Turquoise Blue, Lilac, Moss Green, Ruby Red, Burnt Umber, Indian Yellow, Vermillion, Lapis Lazuli, And So On From Horizon To Horizon. And Between The Hill, Separating Color From Color, Flowed Streams Of Gold And Silver Sand.

Calendars And Clocks Exist To Measure Time, But That Signifies Little Because We All Know That An Hour Can Seem As Eternity Or Pass In A Flash, According To How We Spend It.

People Never Seemed To Notice That, By Saving Time, They Were Losing Something Else. No One Cared To Admit That Life Was Becoming Ever Poorer, Bleaker And More Monotonous. The Ones Who Felt This Most Keenly Were The Children, Because No One Had Time For Them Any More. But Time Is Life Itself, And Life Resides In The Human Heart. And The More People Saved, The Less They Had.

What Will Happen When My Heart Stops Beating?" Momo Asked. When That Moment Comes," Said The Professor, "time Will Stop For You As Well. Or Rather, You Will Retrace Your Steps Through Time, Through All The Days And Nights, Myths And Years Of Your Life, Until You Go Out Through The Great, Round, Silver Gate You Entered By." What Will I Find On The Other Side?" The Home Of The Music You've Sometimes Faintly Heard In The Distance, But By Then You'll Be Part Of It. You Yourself Will Be A Note In Its Mighty Harmonies.

You Must Let What Happens Happen. Everything Must Be Equal In Your Eyes, Good And Evil, Beautiful And Ugly, Foolish And Wise.