When It Comes To Controlling Human Beings,

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

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.

Nothing Can Happen More Than Once, But Everything Must Happen One Day; Over Hill And Dale, Wood And Stream, My Dying Voice Will Blow Away. . .

Every Real Story Is A Never Ending Story.

Lots Of Things Take Time, And Time Was Momo's Only Form Of Wealth.