Life holds one great but quite commonplace mystery. Though shared by each of us and known to all, seldom rates a second thought. That mystery, which most of us take for granted and never think twice about, is time. Calendars… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
Calendars and clocks exist to measure time, but that signifies little because we all know that an hour can seem as eternity or pass in a flash, according to how we spend it. — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
To be wise was to be above joy and sorrow, fear and pity, ambition and humiliation. It was to hate nothing and to love… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
He had been through a good deal in the course of the Great Quest — he had seen beautiful things and horrible things —… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
There were doors that looked like large keyholes, others that resembled the entrances to caves, there were golden doors, some were padded and some… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
“Hasta entonces, todo había sido para él como un gran juego. Se lo había tomado tan en serio como se tomaba cualquier juego y… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
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… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
“And there in the snow lay the pictures, like jewels bedded in white silk. They were paper-thin sheets of colored transparent isin glass of… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
There were thousands and thousands of forms of joy in the world, but that all were essentially one and the same, namely, the joy… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
“A person’s reason for doing someone a good turn matters as much as the good turn itself.” — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
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… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
You wish for something, you've wanted it for years, and you're sure you want it, as long as you know you can't have it.… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
I wonder, what's in a book while it's closed. Oh, I know it's full of letters printed on paper, but all the same, something… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
