There Are Many Kinds Of Joy, But

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.

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.

Nothing Is Lost. . .everything Is Transformed.

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

Once Someone Dreams A Dream, It Can't Just Drop Out Of Existence. But If The Dreamer Can't Remember It, What Becomes Of It? It Lives On In Fantastica, Deep Under Earth. There Are Forgotten Dreams Stored In Many Layers. The Deeper One Digs, The Closer They Are. All Fantastica Rests On A Foundation Of Forgotten Dreams.