Every Real Story Is A Never Ending

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.

There Were Thousands And Thousands Of Forms Of Joy In The World, But That All Were Essentially One And The Same, Namely, The Joy Of Being Able To Love.

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

Maybe All The People Who Say Ghosts Don't Exist Are Just Afraid To Admit That They Do.

Every Real Story Is A Never Ending Story.