Only The Right Name Gives Beings And

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.

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.

As They Advanced (towards The Fountain) One After Another Of Bastian's Fastastican Gifts Fell Away From Him. The Strong, Handsome, Fearless Hero Became The Small, Fat, Timid Boy. (...) But Then He Jumped Into The Crystal-clear Water... He Drank Till His Thrist Was Quenched. And Joy Filled Him From Head To Foot, The Joy Of Living And The Joy Of Being Himself. He Was New Born. And The Best Part Of It Was That He Was Now The Very Person He Wanted To Be. If He Had Been Free To Choose, He Would Have Chosen To Be No One Else.

And If Someone Felt That His Life Had Been An Utter Failure, And That He Himself Was Only One Among Millions Of Wholly Unimportant People Who Could Be Replaced As Easily As Broken Windowpanes, He Would Go And Pour Out His Heart To Momo. And, Even As He Spoke, He Would Come To Realize By Some Mysterious Means That He Was Absolutely Wrong: That There Was Only One Person Like Himself In The Whole World, And That, Consequently, He Mattered To The World In His Own Particular Way. Such Was Momo's Talent For Listening.

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.