There Are Many Kinds Of Delusion.

He Wanted To Be Loved For Being Just What He Was. In This Community Of Yskalnari There Was Harmony, But No Love. He No Longer Wanted To Be The Greatest, Strongest Or Cleverest. He Had Left All That Far Behind. He Longed To Be Loved Just As He Was, Good Or Bad, Handsome Or Ugly, Clever Or Stupid, With All His Faults - Or Possibly Because Of Them. But What Was He Actually? He No Longer Knew. So Much Have Been Given To Him In Fantastica, And Now, Among All These Gifts And Powers, He Could No Longer Find Himself.

There Are Many Kinds Of Delusion.

For A While Bastian Stood Motionless. He Was So Stunned By What He Had Just Heard That He Couldn't Decide What To Do... What He Had Hoped Was His Ruin And What He Had Feared His Salvation.

Just As The Setting Sun Turned The Clouds To Liquid Gold.

People? People Have Been Obsolete For Years, They've Made The World A Place Where There's No Room Left For Their Own Kind.