There Are Many Kinds Of Delusion.

One May Enter The Literary Parlor Via Just About Any Door, Be It The Prison Door, The Madhouse Door, Or The Brothel Door. There Is But One Door One May Not Enter It Through, Which Is The Child Room Door. The Critics Will Never Forgive You Such. The Great Rudyard Kipling Is One Of A Number Of People To Have Suffered From This. I Keep Wondering To Myself What This Peculiar Contempt Towards Anything Related To Childhood Is All About.

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.

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.

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.

But That Is Another Story And Shall Be Told Another Time.