Once Someone Dreams A Dream, It Can't

There Were Doors That Looked Like Large Keyholes, Others That Resembled The Entrances To Caves, There Were Golden Doors, Some Were Padded And Some Were Studded With Nails, Some Were Paper-thin And Others As Thick As The Doors Of Treasure Houses; There Was One That Looked Like A Giant's Mouth And Another That Had To Be Opened Like A Drawbridge, One That Suggested A Big Ear And One That Was Made Of Gingerbread, One That Was Shaped Like An Oven Door, And One That Had To Be Unbuttoned.

You See, Momo... It's Like This. Sometimes, When You've A Very Long Street Ahead Of You, You Think How Terribly Long It Is And Feel Sure You'll Never Get It Swept... And Then You Hurry. You Work Faster And Faster, And Every Time You Look Up There Seems To Be Just As Much To Sweep As Before, And You Try Even Harder…, And You Panic, And In The End You're Out Of Breath And Have To Stop-and Still The Street Stretches Away In From Of You.

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

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

If You Stop To Think About It, You’ll Have To Admit That All The Stories In The World Consist Essentially Of Twenty-six Letters. The Letters Are Always The Same, Only The Arrangement Varies. From Letters Words Are Formed, From Words Sentences, From Sentences Chapters, And From Chapters Stories.