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Michael Ende

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QUOTES [2 / 2 - 238 / 238]


KEYS (10k)

   2 Michael Ende

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

  238 Michael Ende

1:You must let what happens happen. Everything must be equal in your eyes, good and evil, beautiful and ugly, foolish and wise." ~ Michael Ende,
2:There are people that can't go to Fantastica. There are those who can but never return. And there are just a few who go to Fantastica and come back. And they make both worlds well again. ~ Michael Ende,

*** WISDOM TROVE ***

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:You must live your story. ~ Michael Ende,
2:Il principio è sempre buio. ~ Michael Ende,
3:There are many kinds of delusion. ~ Michael Ende,
4:They look like good, strong hands. ~ Michael Ende,
5:그가 그것을 찾았기 때문에, 그것은 이미 그곳에 있었던 거란 말이오. ~ Michael Ende,
6:Ogni vera storia è una Storia Infinita. ~ Michael Ende,
7:Without a past you can't have a future. ~ Michael Ende,
8:Every real story is a never ending story. ~ Michael Ende,
9:Mi existencia es incomprensible y ridícula ~ Michael Ende,
10:My will can control anything that’s empty. ~ Michael Ende,
11:Nothing is lost. . .Everything is transformed. ~ Michael Ende,
12:De tanto esperar, olvidó incluso porque esperaba ~ Michael Ende,
13:When you know as much as we do, nothing matters. ~ Michael Ende,
14:The House of Change... is bigger inside than out. ~ Michael Ende,
15:Chi non ha più un passato non ha neppure un avvenire. ~ Michael Ende,
16:He's a good old sort. If only he weren't plumb crazy! ~ Michael Ende,
17:Ama bu başka bir öyküdür, başka bir zaman anlatılmalı. ~ Michael Ende,
18:But that's another story and shall be told another time ~ Michael Ende,
19:Porque el tiempo es vida, y la vida nace en el corazón. ~ Michael Ende,
20:But that is another story and shall be told another time. ~ Michael Ende,
21:Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold. ~ Michael Ende,
22:Porque el tiempo es vida. Y la vida reside en el corazón. ~ Michael Ende,
23:Time is life itself, and life resides in the human heart. ~ Michael Ende,
24:What you don't wish for will always be beyond your reach. ~ Michael Ende,
25:Importa mucho el cuándo y el cómo se hace algo por alguien ~ Michael Ende,
26:ERSTES KAPITEL in dem die Geschichte mit einem Bums anfängt ~ Michael Ende,
27:Pero esa es otra historia y debe ser contada en otra ocasión. ~ Michael Ende,
28:Wer keine Vergangenheit mehr hat, der hat auch keine Zukunft. ~ Michael Ende,
29:-Quisiera que siempre fuera así.
+Siempre es sólo un momento. ~ Michael Ende,
30:Man darf nie an die ganze Straße auf einmal denken, verstehst du? ~ Michael Ende,
31:Und wer die Zeit der Menschen besitzt, der hat unbegrenzte Macht! ~ Michael Ende,
32:He felt very lonely, yet there was a kind of pride in his loneliness. ~ Michael Ende,
33:...little creatures they were who seemed to have been blown from glass. ~ Michael Ende,
34:Time is the very essence of life itself, and life exists in our hearts. ~ Michael Ende,
35:Una cosa rara es que el horror pierde su espanto cuando se repite mucho. ~ Michael Ende,
36:What he had hoped for was his ruin and what he had feared his salvation. ~ Michael Ende,
37:You've saved my life all the same- even if I had something to do with it. ~ Michael Ende,
38:Da soll mich doch gleich ein gekochter Hummer kitzeln, grollte der Kapitän ~ Michael Ende,
39:Fue una fiesta muy divertida, como sólo sabe celebrarlas la gente modesta. ~ Michael Ende,
40:Nothing can change for them, because they themselves can't change anymore. ~ Michael Ende,
41:Oh, nothing can happen more than once, but all things must happen one day. ~ Michael Ende,
42:Para ellos no puede cambiar nada, porque ellos mismos no pueden ya cambiar. ~ Michael Ende,
43:There are many kinds of joy, but they all lead to one: the joy to be loved. ~ Michael Ende,
44:When it comes to controlling humans, there is no better instrument than lies. ~ Michael Ende,
45:청소를 하다 보면 종종 위대한 생각이 떠올랐다. 하지만 그것은 어렴풋이 기억나는 향기나 꿈속에서 보았던 색깔과 같아서 전달하기가 쉽지 않았다 ~ Michael Ende,
46:there are certain treasures that kill you if you can’t share them with others. ~ Michael Ende,
47:«Tu, lentissima fra i lenti, come puoi arrivare laggiù?»
«Passo dopo passo.» ~ Michael Ende,
48:... Without memory how will you ever find your way back to where you came from? ~ Michael Ende,
49:Doch manche Dinge kann man nicht durch Nachdenken ergründen, man muß sie erfahren. ~ Michael Ende,
50:Strange as it may seem, horror loses its power to frighten when repeated too often. ~ Michael Ende,
51:Aslında zaman nedir?…
…belki de hep var olduğu için duyulmayan bir müzik gibidir. ~ Michael Ende,
52:İnsanlar kendilerini korkutan şeylere çok daha çabuk inanıyorlar. Bu da bir bilmece. ~ Michael Ende,
53:Lo que había esperado resultaba ser su perdición y lo que había odiado su salvación. ~ Michael Ende,
54:Manche Dinge brauchen ihre Zeit – und Zeit war ja das Einzige, woran Momo reich war. ~ Michael Ende,
55:Wenn die Menschen wüssten, was der Tod ist, dann hätten sie keine Angst mehr vor ihm. ~ Michael Ende,
56:Even when I was caught in the web, I didn't give up hope. And as you see, I was right. ~ Michael Ende,
57:Maybe all the people who say ghosts don't exist are just afraid to admit that they do. ~ Michael Ende,
58:A person’s reason for doing someone a good turn matters as much as the good turn itself. ~ Michael Ende,
59:Soltanto chi lascia il labirinto può essere felice, ma soltanto chi è felice può uscirne. ~ Michael Ende,
60:One night I saw the moon, shining so big and round, and I tried to grab it out of the sky. ~ Michael Ende,
61:Te voy a dar un consejo: No te tomes tan en serio a ti mismo. En el fondo, tú no importas. ~ Michael Ende,
62:The Glory was entrusted to you, you weren't given permission to pass it on as you see fit. ~ Michael Ende,
63:Es gibt Reichtümer, an denen man zugrunde geht, wenn man sie nicht mit anderen teilen kann. ~ Michael Ende,
64:Hay que contar siempre con lo peor, y luego hay que hacer contra ello todo lo que se pueda. ~ Michael Ende,
65:Those who still think that listening isn’t an art should see if they can do it half as well. ~ Michael Ende,
66:When a person is only half an ass like me, and not a complete one, she senses certain things. ~ Michael Ende,
67:Tutto ciò che accade tu lo scrivi" disse.
"Tutto ciò che io scrive, accade" fu la risposta. ~ Michael Ende,
68:A story can be new and yet tell about olden times. The past comes into existence with the story. ~ Michael Ende,
69:Anyone who still thinks that listening is nothing special should simply try to do it half as well. ~ Michael Ende,
70:Atreyu was fighting not for himself, but for his friend, whom he was trying to save by defeating him. ~ Michael Ende,
71:... Up until then he had always wanted to be someone other than he was, but he didn't want to change. ~ Michael Ende,
72:Zaman yaşamın kendisiydi. Ve yaşamın yeri yürekti. İnsanlar zamandan tasarruf ettikçe, zaman azalıyordu. ~ Michael Ende,
73:Míralos, lo que parecen los que han vendido la vida y el alma por un poco de bienestar. No, a eso no juego yo. ~ Michael Ende,
74:Porque el tiempo es vida, y la vida reside en el corazón. Y cuanto más ahorraba de esto la gente, menos tenía. ~ Michael Ende,
75:Aber es ist eine seltsame Tatsache, dass das Entsetzliche seine Schrecken verliert, wenn es sich immer wiederholt. ~ Michael Ende,
76:Al menos os habéis encontrado. Lo habéis hecho ya a menudo y lo haréis una y otra vez. Eso no pueden decirlo todos ~ Michael Ende,
77:Only the right name gives beings and things their reality. A wrong name makes everything unreal. That's what lies do. ~ Michael Ende,
78:What I've started I must finish. I've gone too far to turn back. Regardless of what may happen, I have to go forward. ~ Michael Ende,
79:But time is life, and life exists in our hearts, and the more of it that the people saved, the less they actually had. ~ Michael Ende,
80: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? ~ Michael Ende,
81:Wirklich zuhören können nur ganz wenige Menschen. Und so wie Momo sich aufs Zuhören verstand, war es ganz und gar einmalig. ~ Michael Ende,
82:No existe el instante, sólo el pasado o el futuro. Porque ahora, por ejemplo, este instante… cuando hablo de él ya ha pasado. ~ Michael Ende,
83:»Wann bist du geboren?«

Momo überlegte und sagte schließlich: »Soweit ich mich erinnern kann, war ich immer schon da.« ~ Michael Ende,
84:You must let what happens happen. Everything must be equal in your eyes, good and evil, beautiful and ugly, foolish and wise. ~ Michael Ende,
85:Ma è un fatto provato, per quanto molto strano, che anche la cosa più orribile perde parte del suo orrore quando si ripete continuamente. ~ Michael Ende,
86:Kölelik dışında hiçbir şey bilmeyen köleler uysal kölelerdir. Sadece tutuklu yaşamını bilen tutuklular özgür olmamalarının acısını çekmezler. ~ Michael Ende,
87:Nulla dà maggior potere sugli uomini che la menzogna. Perché gli uomini, figliolo, vivono di idee. E quelle si possono guidare come si vuole. ~ Michael Ende,
88: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. . . ~ Michael Ende,
89:Según decían, tenían que aprovechar incluso los ratos libres, con lo que tenían que conseguir como fuera y a toda prisa diversión y relajación. ~ Michael Ende,
90:Wishes cannot be summoned up or kept away at will. They come from deeper within us than good or bad intentions. And they spring up unannounced. ~ Michael Ende,
91:Es gibt viele Arten von Einsamkeit, aber Momo erlebte eine, die wohl nur wenige Menschen kennengelernt haben, und die wenigsten mit solcher Gewalt. ~ Michael Ende,
92:Solo su verdadero nombre hace reales a todos los seres y todas las cosas. Un nombre falso lo convierte todo en irreal. Eso es lo que hace la mentira ~ Michael Ende,
93:All the world's misfortunes stemmed from the countless untruths, both deliberate and unintentional, which people told because of haste or carelessness. ~ Michael Ende,
94:Si los hombres supiesen lo que es la muerte ya no le tendrían miedo. y si ya no le tuvieran miedo, nadie podría robarles, nunca más, su tiempo de vida. ~ Michael Ende,
95: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. ~ Michael Ende,
96:Cô đơn chính là một lời nguyền đè lên mày ngộp thở, một biển cả khiến mày chết đuối, một sự dằn vặt khiến mày khô héo. Mày đã bị loại ra khỏi mọi người. ~ Michael Ende,
97:Me gustaría saner qué pasa realmente en un libro cuando está cerrado [...] algo debe pasar, porque cuando lo abro aparece de pronto una historia entera. ~ Michael Ende,
98:When it comes to controlling human beings there is no better instrument than lies. Because, you see, humans live by beliefs. And beliefs can be manipulated. ~ Michael Ende,
99:Its whole expanse was covered with tall, juicy grass, and when the wind blew, great waves passed over it with a sound like troubled water. (The Grassy Ocean) ~ Michael Ende,
100:-Everything will turn out all right. You'll see.
-I can't imagine how, said Atreyu.
-Neither can I, said the luckdragon. But that's the best part of it. ~ Michael Ende,
101:Yes, she thought about death because she had discovered something else as well: there are certain treasures that kill you if you can't share them with others. ~ Michael Ende,
102:Como marioneta dirigida por manos inexpertas, camina calle abajo dando traspiés, se le doblan las rodillas, recupera el equilibrio y prosigue su marcha vacilante. ~ Michael Ende,
103:FA' CIO' CHE VUOI, questo vuol dire che posso fare tutto quello che mi pare?"
"No, vuol dire che devi fare quel che è la tua vera volontà, e nulla è più difficile. ~ Michael Ende,
104:In his opinion, all the world’s misfortunes stemmed from the countless untruths, both deliberate and unintentional, which people told because of haste or carelessness. ~ Michael Ende,
105:Now he knew that 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. ~ Michael Ende,
106:Wenn die Menschen wüssten, was der Tod ist, dann hätten sie keine Angst mehr vor ihm. Und wenn sie keine Angst mehr hätten, könnte keiner ihnen ihre Lebenszeit stehlen. ~ Michael Ende,
107:Nein, man spürt nichts. Es fehlt einem eben nur etwas. Und jeden Tag fehlt einem mehr, wenn man davon einmal befallen ist. Bald werden wir gar nicht mehr vorhanden sein. ~ Michael Ende,
108: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,
109:Because now he knew that 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. ~ Michael Ende,
110:Now, for the first time ever, a story had escaped his control. It had taken on a life of its own, and all the imagination in the world would be insufficient to halt it. He felt numb. ~ Michael Ende,
111:Erranti nel tumulto del mondo
senza meta nel tempo noi siamo.
Solo per amor puro e profondo
qui e adesso noi arriviamo.
Anima mia, all'erta sta:
ora e qui è l'eternità. ~ Michael Ende,
112:Human passions have mysterious ways, in children as well as grown-ups. Those affected by them can’t explain them, and those who haven’t known them have no understanding of them at all. ~ Michael Ende,
113:E' vero quello che ha detto lo spazzino? Che tutto il male comincia quando si dimentica una nostalgia?"
"Comincia prima", risponde il ginn. "Comincia sempre con una speranza perduta. ~ Michael Ende,
114:With them the individual counted for nothing. No one was irreplaceable, because they drew no distinction between one man and another... In this community there was harmony, but no love. ~ Michael Ende,
115:It was a wonderful feeling, a sense of release and boundless freedom that he had never known before. He was beyond the reach of all the things that had weighed him down and hemmed him in. ~ Michael Ende,
116:For a while Bastian stood motionless. He was so stunned by what he had just heard that he couldn't decide what to do... What he had hoped was his ruin and what he had feared his salvation. ~ Michael Ende,
117:If you do, you'll be running an incalculable risk. It will be up to you whether the world begins to live again or stands still forever and a day. Are you really prepared to take that risk? ~ Michael Ende,
118:Todo o reino de Fantasia assenta-se sobre alicerces de sonhos esquecidos." A História Sem Fim

(The whole kingdom of Fantasy sits upon foundations of forgotten dreams - Endless Story). ~ Michael Ende,
119:It says that Moon Child's power ends here. She is the only one who can never set foot in this place. She cannot penetrate to the center of A U R Y N, because she cannot cast off her own self. ~ Michael Ende,
120:The human world is full of weak-minded people, who think they're as clever as can be and are convinced that it's terribly important to persuade even the children that Fanstastica doesn't exist. ~ Michael Ende,
121:Ama insan, dilekleri canının istediği gibi ne çağırabilir ne de bastırabilir. Dilekler, ister iyi ister kötü olsunlar, tüm niyetlerden çok daha derindedir içimizde. Ve hiç hissedilmeden doğarlar. ~ Michael Ende,
122:To be wise was to be above joy and sorrow, fear and pity, ambition and humiliation. It was to hate nothing and to love nothing, and above all to be utterly indifferent to the love and hate of others. ~ Michael Ende,
123:I desideri non si possono evocare, né soffocare a piacimento. Essi nascono dalle profondità più remote del nostro animo, più nascosti di ogni altra intenzione, siano essi buoni o cattivi. E ha nostra insaputa. ~ Michael Ende,
124:He had never been willing to believe that life had to be as gray and dull as people claimed. He heard them saying: “Life is like that,” but he couldn’t agree. He never stopped believing in mysteries and miracles. ~ Michael Ende,
125:Usted me considera estúpido, ¿verdad? Tal vez tenga razón. Pero me parece que de alguna manera hay que ser estúpido si se quiere hacer algo. Y a mi, princesa, me interesa más hacer algo que justificarme por ello. ~ Michael Ende,
126:The professor smiled. “If people knew the nature of death,” he said after a moment’s silence,
“they’d cease to be afraid of it. And if they ceased to be afraid of it, no one could rob them of their time any more. ~ Michael Ende,
127:Günlük yaşam içinde çok büyük bir sır vardır. Herkesin bunda bir payı bulunur ve herkes onu bilir, ama pek az kimse bu konuya kafa yorar. Çoğu kimse onu olduğu gibi benimser ve ona asla şaşırmaz. Bu büyük sır zamandır. ~ Michael Ende,
128:Nach Hause zu kommen. Und nun ist da nur diese Dunkelheit und Leere. Ich hätte es wissen müssen, dass man niemals zurückkehren kann. Ich bin nicht mehr, der ich war, darum ist nichts mehr, wie es war. Jetzt weiß ich es. ~ Michael Ende,
129:When it comes to controlling human beings there is no better instrument than lies. Because, you see, humans live by beliefs. And beliefs can be manipulated. The power to manipulate beliefs is the only thing that counts. ~ Michael Ende,
130:Questo, ecco, proprio questo era ciò che lui aveva sognato tanto spesso e che sempre aveva desiderato da quando era caduto in preda alla sua passione: una storia che non dovesse mai avere fine. Il libro di tutti i libri. ~ Michael Ende,
131:Tú sabes que viven del tiempo de los hombres. Pero ese tiempo muere literalmente cuando se lo arrancan a su verdadero propietario. Porque cada hombre tiene su propio tiempo. Y sólo mientras siga siendo suyo se mantiene vivo. ~ Michael Ende,
132:Forse lo specchio porterà la mia immagine al principe. Forse può capitare che guardi in alto quando lo specchio sorvola il suo cielo, e allora vedrà la mia immagine. Forse seguirà lo specchio nel suo cammino e mi troverà qui. ~ Michael Ende,
133:Benim anlayamadığım başka bir şey,' diye açıklamaya çalıştı Bastian. 'Her şey ancak ben isteyince mi var oluyor, yoksa önceden var da ben onları bir biçimde ortaya mı çıkarıyorum yalnızca?'
'Her ikisi de,' dedi Graograman. ~ Michael Ende,
134: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. ~ Michael Ende,
135:There are people who can never go to Fantastica," said Mr. Coreander, "and others who can, but who stay there forever. And there are just a few who fo to fantastica and come back. Like you. And they make both world well again. ~ Michael Ende,
136:He was handsome and strong, but somehow that wasn't enough for him. He also felt the need to be tough and inured to hardship... But how was he to come by that quality in this luminous garden, where all manner of fruit was to be had for the picking? ~ Michael Ende,
137:Come voi avete occhi per vedere la luce, e orecchie per sentire i suoni, così avete un cuore per percepire il tempo. E tutto il tempo che il cuore non percepisce è perduto, come i colori dell'arcobaleno per un cieco o il canto dell'usignolo per un sordo. ~ Michael Ende,
138:And much later, long after Bastian had returned to his world, in his maturity and
even in his old age, this joy never left him entirely. Even in the hardest moments of hislife he preserved a lightheartedness that made him smile and that comforted others. ~ Michael Ende,
139:While progressing in this way, with a dirty street ahead of him and a clean one behind, he often had grand ideas. They were ideas that couldn't easily be put into words, though - ideas as hard to define as a half-remembered scent or a colour seen in a dream. ~ Michael Ende,
140: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. But if all at once it looks as though your wish might come true, you suddenly find yourself wishing you had never wished for any such thing. ~ Michael Ende,
141:Her feelings of fear and helplessness had reached such a pitch that they were suddenly transformed into their opposites. Having overcome them, she felt corageous and self-confident enough to tackle any power on earth; more precisely, she had ceased to worry about herself. ~ Michael Ende,
142:When you know as much as we do, nothing matters. Things just repeat. Day and night, summer and winter. The world is empty and aimless. Everything circles around. Whatever starts up must pass away,whatever is born must die. It all cancels out, good or bad, beautiful or ugly. ~ Michael Ende,
143:In the end, it was only a few months that passed this way, and yet it was the longest period of time that Momo had ever lived through. Time can't simply be measured with a clock and a calendar, just as words alone can't describe the kind of loneliness Momo knew in these months. ~ Michael Ende,
144:Es gibt Menschen, die können nie nach Phantasien kommen,
und es gibt Menschen, die können es, aber sie bleiben für immer dort.
Und dann gibt es noch einige, die gehen nach Phantasien
und kehren wieder zurück.
So wie du, Bastian.
Und sie machen beide Welten gesund. ~ Michael Ende,
145:All the games were selected for them by supervisors and had to have some useful, educational purpose. The children learned these new games but unlearned something else in the process: they forgot to be happy, how to take pleasure in little things and last, but not least, how to dream ~ Michael Ende,
146:Man kann davon überzeugt sein, sich etwas zu wünschen - vielleicht jahrelang - solang man weiß, dass der Wunsch unerfüllbar ist. Steht man aber plötzlich vor der Möglichkeit, dass der Wunschtraum Wirklichkeit wird, dann wünscht man sich nur noch eins: Man hätte es sich nie gewünscht. ~ Michael Ende,
147: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 every size and shape, some round, some square, some damaged, some intact, some as large as church windows, others as small as snuffbox miniatures. ~ Michael Ende,
148:-¿Y tú sabes sonambular de verdad?-preguntó la muchacha sin aliento-.
¿Y nos lo puedes enseñar?
-¡Claro!-respondió el muchacho-.
Aunque solo es muy difícil. A dos ya es mucho más fácil. Y si lo hacen muchos a la vez siempre sale bien. ¡Todos los sonámbulos de verdad lo saben! ~ Michael Ende,
149:Người ta có lịch và đồng hồ để đo thời gian, nhưng điều này chẳng có nghĩa gì mấy, vì ai cũng biết một giờ có thể dài vô tận song đôi khi chỉ thoảng qua như một nháy mắt, tùy theo điều gì xảy đến với ta trong một giờ này.
Vì thời gian là cuộc sống. Mà ta cảm nhận cuộc sống bằng con tim. ~ Michael Ende,
150: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. ~ Michael Ende,
151:She felt as if she were imprisoned in a vault heaped with priceless treasures - an ever-growing hoard that threatened to crush the life out of her. There was no way out, either. The vault was impenetrable and she was far too deeply buried beneath a mountain of time to attract anyone's attention. ~ Michael Ende,
152:Nur Momo konnte so lange warten und verstand was er sagte. Sie wußte, daß er sich so viel Zeit nahm, um niemals etwas Unwahres zu sagen. Denn nach seiner Meinung kam alles Unglück der Welt von den vielen Lügen, den absichtlichen, aber auch den unabsichtlichen, die nur aus Eile oder Ungenauigkeit entstehen. ~ Michael Ende,
153:There are many kinds of loneliness, but Momo experienced one that only very few people know of, and that even fewer have experienced to the extent that Momo did. She felt like she was imprisoned in a treasure trove filled with priceless riches that continued to grow in number, threatening to suffocate her. ~ Michael Ende,
154:In that moment Bastian made a profound discovery. 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. But if all at once it looks as though your wish might come true, you suddenly find yourself wishing you had never wished for any such thing. ~ Michael Ende,
155:Neden yüzleri kül gibi soğuk?"
"Varlıklarını ölü şeylerden kazandıkları için. Biliyorsun, onlar varlıklarını, insanların ömrünü tüketerek sürdürüyorlar. Fakat zaman, gerçek sahiplerinden alınınca ölüyor. Her insanın kendisine ait belli bir zamanı vardır. Ve bu zaman da yalnızca onda kaldıkça canlıdır, yaşar. ~ Michael Ende,
156:Your life is short, son. Ours is long. Much too long. But we both live in time. You a short time. We a long time. The Childlike Empress has always been there. But she's not old. She has always been young. She still is. Her life isn't measured by time, but by names. She needs a new name. She keeps needing new names. ~ Michael Ende,
157: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 lives on in Fantastica, deep under earth. There are forgotten dreams stored in many layers. The deeper one digs, the closer they are. All Fantastica rests on a foundation of forgotten dreams. ~ Michael Ende,
158:Niemand schien zu merken, daß er, indem er Zeit sparte, in Wirklichkeit etwas ganz anderes sparte. Keiner wollte wahr haben, daß sein Leben immer ärmer, immer gleichförmiger und immer kälter wurde. [...] Aber Zeit ist Leben. Und das Leben wohnt im Herzen. Und je mehr die Menschen daran sparten, desto weniger hatten sie. ~ Michael Ende,
159:What's so clever about working hard ?" he said to Momo. "Anyone can get rich quick that way, but who wants to look like the people who've sold themselves body and soul for money's sake ? Well, they can count me out. Even if there are times when I don't have the price of a cup of coffee, I'm still me. Guido's still Guido! ~ Michael Ende,
160:Si può essere perfettamente convinti di desiderare una cosa, magari per anni interi, fintanto si sa che il desiderio non è realizzabile. Ma nel momento stesso in cui, all'improvviso, ci si trova di fronte alla possibilità ch'esso si trasformi in realtà, allora non si ha più che un solo desiderio: non averlo desiderato mai. ~ Michael Ende,
161:« Incluso llegaron horas en que deseaba no haber oído nunca la música ni haber visto los colores. No obstante, si la hubiesen dado a elegir, no habría renunciado a ese recuerdo por nada del mundo. Aunque se hubiera muerto por ello. Pues eso era lo que vivía ahora: que hay riquezas que lo matan a uno si no puede compartirlas.» ~ Michael Ende,
162:Es ist komisch. Es gibt einen Moment, wo man mit seinen Figuren nicht mehr machen kann, was man will, wo die eine Art Eigenleben kriegen und man eigentlich nur noch hinter ihnen hinterherschreiben muss. Und das ist ein gutes Zeichen, wenn dieser Punkt erreicht ist. Weil das heißt, dass die Figur wirklich ein Leben gekriegt hat. ~ Michael Ende,
163:All that matters in life," the grey man went on, "is to climb the ladder of success, amount to something, own things. When a person climbs higher than the rest, amounts to more, owns more things, everything else comes automatically: friendship, love, respect, et cetera..."

"Isn't there anyone who loves you?" Momo whispered. ~ Michael Ende,
164:Por cierto, había entre ellas un pequeño monstruo particularmente repugnante: el llamado juzgalibros, que en lenguaje popular recibe también el nombre de sabidillo y quisquilla. Estos espíritus pequeños suelen pasar su vida poniendo reparos a los libros. Todavía no se ha logrado establecer con certeza para qué existen tales criaturas... ~ Michael Ende,
165:Ahora bien, es un hecho conocido que, a veces, los libros se tienen entre sí un odio mortal. Aún tratándose de libros enteramente normales, cualquiera que tenga un poco de tacto no colocará Justine junto a Heidi ni Las leyes tributarias junto a La historia interminable, aunque, naturalmente, los libros normales no pueden oponerse a eso... ~ Michael Ende,
166:Dreizehn Mann saßen auf einem Sarg,
Ho! Ho! Ho! - und ein Fass voller Rum.
Sie soffen drei Tage, der Schnaps war stark,
Ho! Ho! Ho! - und ein Fass voller Rum.
Sie liebten das Meer und den Schnaps und das Gold.
Ho! Ho! Ho! - und ein Fass voller Rum.
Bis einst alle dreizehn der Teufel holt,
Ho! Ho! Ho! - und ein Fass voller Rum. ~ Michael Ende,
167:Hasta entonces, todo había sido para él como un gran juego. Se lo había tomado tan en serio como se tomaba cualquier juego y cualquier cuento, sin pensar en las consecuencias. Por primera vez en su vida, una historia continuaba sin él, se hacía independiente, y ni toda la fantasía del mundo podía hacerla dar marcha atrás. Se sentía paralizado. ~ Michael Ende,
168:[Bastian] didn't like books in which dull, cranky writers describe humdrum events in the very humdrum lives of humdrum people. Reality gave him enough of that kind of thing, why should he read about it? Besides, he couldn't stand when a writer tried to convince him of something. And these humdrum books, it seemed to him, were always trying to do just that. ~ Michael Ende,
169:When your turn comes to jump into the Nothing, you too will be a nameless servant of power, with no will of your own. Who knows what use they will make of you? Maybe you'll help them persuade people to buy things they don't need, or hate things they know nothing about, or hold beliefs that make them easy to handle, or doubt the truths that might save them. ~ Michael Ende,
170:Most of the time she could slip into other people, so to speak, and discover what they really meant and who they actually were behind their words. But she couldn't do it with this visitor. No matter how often she tried to understand his thoughts, she always got the feeling that she was falling into empty darkness, as if there weren't even a person there at all. ~ Michael Ende,
171:Mi existencia es incomprensible y ridícula. Pero nunca estuvo a mi alcance poder elegir otra. Uno no deja de ser quien es. La libertad existe solo en el futuro. En el pasado ya no se puede encontrar. Nadie puede escoger otro pasado. Todo lo que sucede tenía que suceder como sucedió. A posteriori todo es inevitable. A priori nada. Lo único que importa es despertar del sueño. ~ Michael Ende,
172:People never seemed to notice that, by saving time, they were losing something else. No one cared to admit that life was becoming ever poorer, bleaker and more monotonous. The ones who felt this most keenly were the children, because no one had time for them any more. But time is life itself, and life resides in the human heart. And the more people saved, the less they had. ~ Michael Ende,
173:...Un día nos dimos cuenta de que faltaba una palabra. Nadie nos la había robado, tampoco la habíamos olvidado. Sencillamente ya no estaba. Pero sin esa palabra no podíamos seguir actuando, porque ya nada daba sentido. Era precisamente la palabra por la que todo se relaciona con todo. ¿Comprende, bella dama? Desde entonces viajamos de un lado a otro para encontrarla de nuevo. ~ Michael Ende,
174:Sad je znao da ima na tisuće i tisuće oblika radosti na svijetu, ali se svi oni svode u biti na jednu jedinu radost, radost što možeš voljeti. Pa i poslije, kad se bio već odavno vratio u svoj svijet, kad je odrastao i naposljetku ostario, nikad ga ova radost nije više napustila. I u najtežim životnim časovima ostalo mu je to istinsko zadovoljstvo zbog kojeg se i tada smiješio i tješio druge ~ Michael Ende,
175:Trotzdem war etwas besonderes an ihr, nur konnte Lenchen nicht gleich darauf kommen, was es war. Doch dann bemerkte sie es: Die Fee hatte sechs Finger an jeder Hand.
"Mach dir nichts draus", sagte Franziska Fragezeichen, die Lenchens Blick bemerkt hatte, "bei uns Feen ist immer irgendetwas ein bisschen anders als bei gewöhnlichen Menschen. Sonst wären wir ja keine Feen. Das verstehst du doch? ~ Michael Ende,
176:Er dachte einige Zeit nach. Dann sprach er weiter: "Man darf nie an die ganze Straße auf einmal denken, verstehst du? Man muß nur an den nächsten Schritt denken, an den nächsten Atemzug, an den nächsten Besenstrich. Und immer wieder nur an den nächsten." Wieder hielt er inne und überlegte, ehe er hinzufügte: "Dann macht es Freude; das ist wichtig, dann macht man seine Sache gut. Und so soll es sein. ~ Michael Ende,
177:That brings me to the real reason for the title: Where does that which happens during reading a book take place? (...) Does not every reader, whether he wants it or not, bring (...) his own experiences and thoughts into the process of reading? (...) Is not every book a mirror in which the reader is reflected, whether he knows it or not? And is not every reader a mirror in which the book is reflected? ~ Michael Ende,
178:At certain junctures in the course of existence, unique moments occur when everyone and everything, even the most distant stars, combine to bring about something that could not have happened before and will never happen again. Few people know how to take advantage of these critical moments, unfortunately, and they often pass unnoticed. When someone does recognize them, however, great things happen in the world. ~ Michael Ende,
179:If you have never wept bitter tears because a wonderful story has come to an end and you must take your leave of the characters with whom you have shared so many adventures, whom you have loved and admired, for whom you have hoped and feared, and without whose company life seems empty and meaningless.

If such things have not been part of your own experience, you probably won't understand what Bastian did next. ~ Michael Ende,
180: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. ~ Michael Ende,
181: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. ~ Michael Ende,
182:But there was another thing Momo couldn't quite understand - a thing that hadn't happened until very recently. More and more often these days, children turned up with all kinds of toys you couldn't really play with: remote-controlled tanks that trundled to and fro but did little else, or space rockets that whizzed around on strings but go nowhere, or model robots that waddled along with eyes flashing and heads swiveling but that was all. ~ Michael Ende,
183: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 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.

Time is life itself, and life resides in the human heart. ~ Michael Ende,
184:When it comes to controlling human beings there is no better instrument than lies. Because, you see, humans live by beliefs. And beliefs can be manipulated. The power to manipulate beliefs is the only thing that counts

... Who knows what use they’ll make of you? Maybe you’ll help them to persuade people to buy things they don’t need, or hate things they know nothing about, or hold beliefs that make them easy to handle, or doubt the truths that might save them. ~ Michael Ende,
185:You ask me what you will be there. But what are you here? What are you creatures of Fantastica? Dreams, poetic inventions, characters in a neverending story. Do you think you're real? Well yes, here in your world you are. But when you been through the Nothing, you won't be real anymore. You'll be unrecognizable. And you will be in another world. In that world, you Fantasticans won't be anything like yourselves. You will bring delusion and madness into the human world. ~ Michael Ende,
186:Devi sapere che nel corso dell'universo ci sono, a volte, dei momenti stupendi, momenti speciali, ma non unici, in cui tutte le cose e gli esseri fino alle stelle più lontane operano insieme con una armonia eccezionale così che può avverarsi qualcosa che né prima né dopo sarebbe possibile. Purtroppo gli uomini, in generale, non sono capaci di farne uso, e le ore astrali, ripetutamente, passano inosservate. Però, se qualcuno le ravvisa, allora accadono grandi cose nell'universo. ~ Michael Ende,
187: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. ~ Michael Ende,
188:(...) Y la alegría lo llenó de la cabeza a los pies, alegría de vivir y alegría de ser él mismo. Porque ahora sabía otra vez quién era y de dónde era. Había nacido de nuevo. Y lo mejor era que quería ser precisamente quien era. Si hubiera tenido que elegir una posibilidad entre todas, no hubiera elegido ninguna otra. Porque ahora sabía: en el mundo hay miles y miles de formas de alegría, pero en el fondo todas son una sola: la alegría de poder amar. Eran aspectos de una misma cosa. ~ Michael Ende,
189:»Ist es wahr, was der Straßenkehrer gesagt hat? Dass alles Böse mit dem Vergessen einer Sehnsucht beginnt?« »Es beginnt früher«, antwortet der Dschinn. »Es beginnt immer mit einer verlorenen Hoffnung.« Und später, viel später, als der Knabe schon an die Spiele denkt, die er bald spielen wird, murmelt der Dschinn, längst wieder allein und eingeschlossen in seinem Turm aus Eis, noch einmal vor sich hin: »Niemand vermag zu ermessen, wohin es mit einem kommen kann, der die Hoffnung verloren hat …« ~ Michael Ende,
190:Yra didelė, bet visiškai kasdieniška paslaptis. Visi žmonės su ja susiję, kiekvienas ją žino, bet tik nedaugelis apie ją pagalvoja. Dauguma paprasčiausiai su ja taikstosi ir nė kiek nesistebi. Toji paslaptis - tai laikas. Jam matuoti yra kalendoriai ir laikrodžiai, bet tas nedaug ką sako, nes kiekvienas žino, kad kartais viena valanda atrodo kaip amžinybė, o kitais kartais ji prabėga kaip akimirka - nelygu, ką žmogus tą valandą patiria. Laikas yra gyvenimas, o gyvenimo būstas - žmogaus širdis. ~ Michael Ende,
191:- Mira -gorgoteo la Morla- somos viejas, pequeño, demasiado viejas y hemos vivido bastante. Hemos vivido demasiado. Para quien sabe tanto como nosotras, nada es importante ya. Todo se repite eternamente: el día y la noche, el verano y el invierno… el mundo está vacío y no tiene sentido. Todo se mueve en círculos. Lo que aparece debe desaparecer y lo que nace debe morir. Todo pasa el bien y el mal, y la estupidez y la sabiduría, la belleza y la fealdad. Todo está vacío. Nada es verdad. Nada es importante ~ Michael Ende,
192:Esiste un grande eppur quotidiano mistero. Tutti gli uomini ne partecipano ma pochissimi si fermano a rifletterci. Quasi tutti si limitano a prenderlo come viene e non se ne meravigliano affatto. Questo mistero è il tempo. Esistono calendari ed orologi per misurarlo, misure di ben poco significato, perché tutti sappiamo che talvolta un'unica ora ci può sembrare un'eternità, ed un'altra invece passa in un attimo... dipende da quel che viviamo in quell'ora. Perché il tempo è vita. E la vita dimora nel cuore. ~ Michael Ende,
193:And not only of even mainly because of the protection it had given him - it was thanks to his own strength, after all, that he had stood up to all the hardships and terrors and the loneliness of his Quest - but as long as he had carried the emblem, he had never been at a loss for what to do. Like a mysterious compass, it had guided his thoughts in the right direction. And now that was changed, now he had no secret power to lead him. He had no idea what to do, but he couldn't bear to stand there as though paralyzed. ~ Michael Ende,
194: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. ~ Michael Ende,
195:Las pasiones humanas son un misterio, y a los niños les pasa lo mismo que a los mayores. Los que se dejan llevar por ellas no pueden explicárselas. Hay hombres que se juegan la vida para subir una montaña. Nadie, ni siquiera ellos puede explicar realmente por qué. Otros se arruinan para conquistar el corazón de una persona que no quiere saber nada de ellos. Otros se destruyen a sí mismos por no saber resistir los placeres de la mesa.... o de la botella... En resumen hay tantas pasiones distintas como hombres distintos hay ~ Michael Ende,
196: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. ~ Michael Ende,
197:Soon some of the plants were as big as fruit trees. There were fans of long emerald-green leaves, flowers resembling peacock tails with rainbow-colored eyes, pagodas consisting of sumperimposed unbrellas of violet silk. Thick stems were interwoven like braids. Since they were transparent, they looked like pink glass lit up from within. Some of the blooms looked like clusters of blue and yellow Japanese lanterns. And little by little, as the luminous night growths grew denser, they intertwined to form a tissue of soft light. ~ Michael Ende,
198: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. ~ Michael Ende,
199:He wanted to be loved for being just what he was. In this community of Yskalnari there was harmony, but no love.

He no longer wanted to be the greatest, strongest or cleverest. He had left all that far behind. He longed to be loved just as he was, good or bad, handsome or ugly, clever or stupid, with all his faults - or possibly because of them.

But what was he actually?

He no longer knew. So much have been given to him in Fantastica, and now, among all these gifts and powers, he could no longer find himself. ~ Michael Ende,
200:Bastian had climbed a dune of purplish-red sand and all around him he saw nothing but hill after hill of every imaginable color. Each hill revealed a shade or tint that occured in no other. The nearest was cobalt blue, another was saffron yellow, then came crimson red, then indigo, apple green, sky blue, orange, peach, mauve, turquoise blue, lilac, moss green, ruby red, burnt umber, Indian yellow, vermillion, lapis lazuli, and so on from horizon to horizon. And between the hill, separating color from color, flowed streams of gold and silver sand. ~ Michael Ende,
201:AURYN gives you great power … but you must not make use of it. For the Childlike Empress herself never makes use of her power. AURYN will protect you and guide you, but whatever comes your way you must never interfere, because from this moment on your own opinion ceases to count. For that same reason you must go unarmed. You must let what happens happen. Everything must be equal in your eyes, good and evil, beautiful and ugly, foolish and wise, just as it is in the eyes of the Childlike Empress. You may only search and inquire, never judge. Always remember that, Atreyu! ~ Michael Ende,
202:The Nothing is spreading," groaned the first. "It's growing and growing, there's more of it every day, if it's possible to speak of more nothing. All the others fled from Howling Forest in time, but we didn't want to leave our home. The Nothing caught us in our sleep and this is what it did to us."

"Is it very painful?" Atreyu asked.

"No," said the second bark troll, the one with the hole in his chest. "You don't feel a thing. There's just something missing. And once it gets hold of you, something more is missing every day. Soon there won't be anything left of us. ~ Michael Ende,
203:La soffitta era grande e buia. Odorava di polvere e di naftalina. All'infuori del tambureggiare leggero della pioggia sulle lastre di rame del gran tetto, non si sentiva volare una mosca. Travi possenti, nere di vecchiaia, si levavano a intervalli regolari dal pavimento, si incontravano più in alto con altre travi del tetto, per perdersi poi da qualche parte nel buio. Qua e là pendevano ragnatele grandi come amache, che si muovevano avanti e indietro nella corrente d'aria, lievi e silenziose come spiriti. Dall'alto di un finestrino che si apriva nel tetto scendeva un lattiginoso raggio di luce. ~ Michael Ende,
204:Ich möchte wissen", sagte er vor sich hin, "was eigentlich in einem Buch los ist, solang es zu ist. Natürlich sind nur Buchstaben drin, die auf Papier gedruckt sind, aber trotzdem - irgendwas muss doch los sein, denn wenn ich es aufschlage, dann ist da auf einmal eine ganze Geschichte. Da sind Personen, die ich noch nicht kenne und es gibt alle möglichen Abenteuer und Taten und Kämpfe - und manchmal ereignen sich Meeresstürme, oder man kommt in fremde Länder und Städte. Das ist doch alles irgendwie drin im Buch. Man muss es lesen, damit man's erlebt, das ist klar. Aber drin ist es schon vorher. Ich möcht wissen, wie? ~ Michael Ende,
205:No le gustaban los libros en que, con malhumor y de forma avinagrada, se contaban acontecimientos totalmente corrientes de la vida totalmente corriente de personas totalmente corrientes. De eso había ya bastante en la realidad y, ¿por qué habría de leer además sobre ello? Por otra parte, le daba cien patadas cuando se daba cuenta de que lo querían convencer de algo. Y esa clase de libros, más o menos claramente, siempre lo querían convencer a uno de algo.
Bastián prefería los libros apasionantes, o divertidos o que hacían soñar; libros en los que los personajes inventados vivían aventuras fabulosas y en los que uno podía imaginarse todo. ~ Michael Ende,
206:[…] Evil appears quite different when seen from the point of view of eternity than when seen from within the kingdom of time. Up yonder one sees that it actually always serves Good in the long run. It is, so to speak, a contradiction in itself. It is constantly striving for power over Good, but without Good it could not exist – and if it ever achieved total power, it would have to destroy precisely that over which it desires to wield said power. That’s why it can last only as long as it is incomplete […]. If it were complete, it would cancel itself out. That’s why it has no place in eternity. Only Good is eternal, for it contains itself without contradiction. ~ Michael Ende,
207:I did everything wrong," he said. "I misunderstood everything. Moon Child gave me so much, and all I did with it was harm, harm to myself and harm to Fantastica."

Dame Eyola gave him a long look.

No," she said. "I don't believe so. You went the way of wishes, and that is never straight. You went the long way around, but that was your way. And do you know why? Because you are one of those who can't go back until they have found the fountain from which springs the Water of Life. And that's the most secret place in Fantastica. There's no simple way of getting there."

After a short silence she added: "But every way that leads there is the right one. ~ Michael Ende,
208:Woman!" said the litle man testily. "Get out of my light. You are interfering with my reserarch!"
You and your research!" said the woman. "Who cares about that? The important thing is my health elixir. Those two outside are in urgent need of it."
"Those two," said the man irritably, "will be far more in need of my help and advice."
"Maybe so," said the little woman. "But not until they are well. Move over, old man!"...
Atreyu cleared his throat to call attention to his presence...
"He's already well," said the little man. "Now it's my turn."
"Certainly not! the little woman hissed. "He'll be well when I say so. It'll be your turn when I say it's your turn. ~ Michael Ende,
209:Hay muchas clases de soledad, pero Momo vivía una que muy pocos hombres conocen, y menos con tanta fuerza.
Le parecía estar encerrada en una caverna rodeada de riquezas incontables que se hacían cada vez más y mayores y amenazaban asfixiarla. Y no había salida. Nadie podía llegar hasta ella y ella no se podía hacer notar a nadie, tan aplastada estaba bajo una montaña de tiempo.
Incluso llegaron horas en que deseaba no haber oído nunca la música ni haber visto los colores. No obstante, si la hubiesen dado a elegir, no habría renunciado a ese recuerdo por nada del mundo. Aunque se hubiera muerto por ello. Pues eso era lo que vivía ahora: que hay riquezas que lo matan a uno si no puede compartirlas. ~ Michael Ende,
210:No," he said in his deep, rumbling voice. "It means that you must do what you really and truly want. And nothing is more difficult."
"What I really and truly want? What do you mean by that?"
"It's your own deepest secret and you yourself don't know it."
"How can I find out?"
"By going the way of your wishes, from one to another, from first to last. It will take you to what you really and truly want."
"That doesn't sound so hard," said Bastian.
"It is the most dangerous of all journeys."
"Why?" Bastian asked. "I'm not afraid."
"That isn't it," Grograman rumbled. "It requires the greatest honesty and vigilance, because there's no other journey on which it's so easy to lose yourself forever. ~ Michael Ende,
211:When your turn comes to jump into the Nothing, you too will be a nameless servant of power, with no will of your own. Who knows what use they will make of you? Maybe you'll help them persuade people to buy things they don't need, or hate things they know nothing about, or hold beliefs that make them easy to handle, or doubt the truths that might save them. Yes, you little Fantastican, big things will be done in the human world with your help, wars started, empires founded..." " The human world is full of weak-minded people, who think they're as clever as can be and are convinced that it's terribly important to persuade even the children that Fantastica doesn't exist. Maybe they will be able to make good use of you. ~ Michael Ende,
212:Bastian looked at the book.
'I wonder,' he said to himself, '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 must be happening, because as soon as I open it, there's a whole story with people I don't know yet and all kinds of adventures, deeds and battles. And sometimes there are storms at sea, or it takes you to strange cities and countries. All those things are somehow shut in a book. Of course you have to read it to find out. But it's already there, that's the funny thing. I just wish I knew how it could be.'
Suddenly an almost festive mood came over him.
He settled himself down, picked up the book, opened it to the first page, and began to read... ~ Michael Ende,
213:It's asking us our names," Falkor reported.

"I'm Atreyu!" Atreyu cried.

"I'm Falkor!" cried Falkor.

The boy without a name was silent.

Atreyu looked at him, then took him by the hand and cried: "He's Bastian Balthazar Bux!"

"It asks," Falkor translated, "why he doesn't speak for himself."

"He can't," said Atreyu. "He has forgotten everything."

Falkor listened again to the roaring of the fountain.

"Without memory, it says, he cannot come in. The snakes won't let him through."

Atreyu replied: "I have stored up everything he told us about himself and his world. I vouch for him."

Falkor listened.

"It wants to know by what right?"

"I am his friend," said Atreyu. ~ Michael Ende,
214:Reluctantly Bastian's thoughts turned back to reality. He was glad the Neverending Story had nothing to do with that.
He didn't like books in which dull, cranky writers describe humdrum events in the very humdrum lives of humdrum people. Reality gave him enough of that kind of thing, why should he read about it? Besides, he couldn't stand it when a writer tried to convince him of something. And these humdrum books, it seemed to him, were always trying to do just that.
Bastian liked books that were exciting or funny, or that made him dream. Books where made-up characters had marvelous adventures, books that made him imagine all sorts of things.
Because one thing he was good at, possibly the only thing, was imagining things so clearly that he almost saw and heard them. ~ Michael Ende,
215:Give up", groaned Mauricio, "or else you are a dead duck!"
"You give up first," coughed Jacob, "or else I'll snip your tail off!'
And then both let go at the same time and sat facing each other, all out of breath. With tears in his eyes the little cat tried to straighten out his tail, which no longer looked elegant in the least but had been bent into a zigzag, while the melancholy raven eyed the feathers scattered on the floor, feathers he couldn't really spare. But as is often the case after such bickering, both felt relatively peaceful and ready for reconciliation. Jacob thought he should not have been so rude to the small, fat tomcat, and Maurizio wondered if he might have done something wrong with the poor, unfortunate raven. "Forgive me, please," he mewed. "I'm sorry, too," rasped Jacob. ~ Michael Ende,
216:If you have never spent whole afternoons with burning ears and rumpled hair, forgetting the world around you over a book, forgetting cold and hunger--

If you have never read secretly under the bedclothes with a flashlight, because your father or mother or some other well-meaning person has switched off the lamp on the plausible ground that it was time to sleep because you had to get up so early--

If you have never wept bitter tears because a wonderful story has come to an end and you must take your leave of the characters with whom you have shared so many adventures, whom you have loved and admired, for whom you have hoped and feared, and without whose company life seems empty and meaningless--

If such things have not been part of your own experience, you probably won't understand what Bastian did next. ~ Michael Ende,
217:He tried to remember Moon Child's eyes, but was no longer able to. He was sure of only one thing: that her glance had passed through his eyes and down into his heart. He could still feel the burning trail it had left behind. That glance, he felt, was embedded in his heart, and there it glittered like a mysterious jewel. And in a strange and wonderful way it hurt.
Even if Bastian had wanted to, he couldn't have defended himself against this thing that had happened to him. However, he didn't want to. Oh no, not for anything in the world would he have parted with that jewel. All he wanted was to go on reading, to see Moon Child again, to be with her.
IT never occurred to him that he was getting into the most unusual and perhaps the most dangerous of adventures. But even if he had known this, he wouldn't have dreamed of shutting the book. ~ Michael Ende,
218:Human passions have mysterious ways, in children as well as grown-ups. Those affected by them can't explain them, and those who haven't known them have no understanding of them at all. Some people risk their lives to conquer a mountain peak. No one, not even they themselves, can really explain why. Others ruin themselves trying to win the heart of a certain person who wants nothing to do with them. Still others are destroyed by their devotion to the pleasures of the table. Some are so bent on winning the game of chance that they lose everything they own, and some sacrifice everything for a dream that can never come true. Some think their only hope of happiness lies in being somewhere else, and spend their whole lives traveling from place to place. And some find no rest until they have become powerful. In short, there are as many passions as there are people. ~ Michael Ende,
219:Las pasiones humanas son un misterio, a los niños le pasa lo mismo que a los mayores. Los que se dejan llevar por ellas no puede explicárselas, y los que no las han vivido, no pueden comprenderlas. Hay hombres que se juegan la vida para subir a una montaña. Nadie, ni siquiera ellos, puede explicar realmente por qué. Otros se arruinan para conquistar el corazón de una persona que no quiere saber nada de ellos. Otros se destruyen a sí mismos por no saber resistir los placeres de la mesa... o de la botella. Algunos pierden cuanto tienen para ganar en un juego de azar, o lo sacrifican todo a una idea fija que jamás podrá realizarse. Unos cuantos creen que solo serán felices en un lugar distinto, y recorren el mundo durante toda su vida. Y unos pocos no descansan hasta que consiguen ser poderosos. En resumen: hay tantas pasiones distintas como hombres distintos hay. ~ Michael Ende,
220:Human passions have mysterious ways, in children as well as grown-ups. Those affected by them can't explain them, and those who haven't known them have no understanding of them at all. Some people risk their lives to conquer a mountain peak. No one, not even they themselves, can really explain why. Others ruin themselves trying to win the heart of a certain person who wants nothing to do with them. Still others are destroyed by their devotion to the pleasures of the table. Some are so bent on winning a game of chance that they lose everything they own, and some sacrafice everything for a dream that can never come true. Some think their only hope of happiness lies in being somewhere else, and spend their whole lives traveling from place to place. And some find no rest until they have become powerful. In short, there are as many different passions as there are people. ~ Michael Ende,
221:Las pasiones humanas son un misterio, y a los niños les pasa lo mismo que a los mayores. Los que se dejan llevar por ellas no pueden explicárselas, y los que no las han vivido no pueden comprenderlas. Hay hombres que se juegan la vida para subir a una montaña. Nadie, ni siquiera ellos, pueden explicar realmente el por qué. Otros se arruinan para conquistar el corazón de una persona que no quiere saber nada de ellos. Otros se destruyen a sí mismos por no saber resistir los placeres de la mesa… o de la botella. Algunos pierden cuanto tienen para ganar en un juego de azar, o lo sacrifican todo a una idea fija que jamás podrá realizarse. Unos cuantos creen que sólo serán felices en algún lugar distinto, y recorren el mundo durante toda su vida. y unos pocos no descansan hasta que consiguen ser poderosos. En resumen: Hay tantas pasiones distintas como hombres distintos hay. ~ Michael Ende,
222:Quien no haya pasado tardes enteras delante de un libro, con las orejas ardiéndole y el pelo caído por la cara, leyendo y leyendo, olvidado del mundo y sin darse cuenta de que tenía hambre o se estaba quedando helado...

Quien nunca haya leído en secreto a la luz de una linterna, bajo la manta, porque Papá o Mamá o alguna otra persona solícita le ha apagado la luz con el argumento bien intencionado de que tiene que dormir, porque mañana hay que levantarse tempranito...

Quien nunca haya llorado abierta o disimuladamente lágrimas amargas, porque una historia maravillosa acaba y había que decir adiós a personajes con los que había corrido tantas aventuras, a los que quería y admiraba, por los que había temido y rezado, y sin cuya compañía la vida le parecería vacía y sin sentido…

Quien no conozca todo esto por propia experiencia, no podrá comprender... ~ Michael Ende,
223:Le passioni umane sono una cosa misteriosa. Coloro che ne vengono colpiti non le sanno spiegare, e coloro che non hanno mai provato nulla di simile non le possono comprendere. Ci sono persone che metto in gioco la loro esistenza per raggiungere la vetta di una montagna. A nessuno, neppure a se stessi, potrebbero realmente spiegare perchè lo fanno. Altri si rovinano per conquistare il cuore di una persona che non vuole sapere nulla di loro. Altri ancora vanno in rovina perchè non sanno resistere ai piaceri della gola o alla bottiglia. Alcuni buttano i loro beni nel gioco oppure sacrificano ogni cosa per un'idea che mai potrà diventare realtà. Altri credono di poter essere felici sono in un posto diverso da quello in cui vivono e così passano la vita girando il mondo. Insomma ci sono tante e diverse passioni, quante e diverse sono le passioni. Per lei la passione erano i libri. ~ Michael Ende,
224:All dwelling in one house are strange brothers three,
as unlike as any three brothers could be,
yet try as you may to tell brother from brother,
 you’ll find that the trio resemble each other.
The first isn’t there, though he’ll come beyond doubt.
The second’s departed, so he’s not about.
The third and the smallest is right on the spot,
and manage without him the others could not.
Yet the third is a factor with which to be reckoned
because the first brother turns into the second.
You cannot stand back and observe number three,
for one of the others is all you will see.
So tell me, my child, are the three of them one?
Or are there but two? Or could there be none?
Just name them, and you will at once realize
that each rules a kingdom of infinite size.
They rule it together and are it as well.
In that, they’re alike, so where, do they dwell? ~ Michael Ende,
225:What do you suppose it means?'[Bastian] asked. ""DO WHAT YOU WISH.'" That must mean I can do anything I feel like. Don't you think so?
All at once Grograman's face looked alarmingly grave, and his eyes glowed.
'No,' he said in his deep, rumbling voice. 'It means that you must do what you really and truly want. And nothing is more difficult.'
'What I really and truly want? What do you mean by that?'
'It's your own deepest secret and you yourself don't know it.'
'How can I find out?'
'By going the way of your wishes, from one to another, from first to last. It will take you to what you really and truly want.'
'That doesn't sound so hard,' said Bastian.
'It's the most dangerous of all journeys.'
'Why?' Bastian asked. 'I'm not afraid.'
'That isn't it,' Grograman rumbled. 'It requires the greatest honesty and vigilance, because there's no other journey on which it's so easy to lose yourself forever. ~ Michael Ende,
226:...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 start to hurry. You work faster and faster and every time you look up there seems to be just as much left 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 front of you. That's not the way to do it.

You must never think of the whole street at once, understand? You must only concentrate on the next step, the next breath, the next stroke of the broom, and the next, and the next. Nothing else.

That way you enjoy your work, which is important, because then you make a good job of it. And that's how it ought to be.

And all at once, before you know it, you find you've swept the whole street clean, bit by bit. what's more, you aren't out of breath. That's important, too... ~ Michael Ende,
227:Le passioni umane sono una cosa molto misteriosa. [...] Coloro che ne vengono colpiti non le sanno spiegare, e coloro che non hanno mai provato qualcosa di simile non le possono comprendere. Ci sono persone che mettono in gioco la loro esistenza per raggiungere la vetta di una montagna. A nessuno, neppure a se stessi, potrebbero spiegare perché lo fanno. Altri si rovinano per conquistare il cuore di una persona che non ne vuole sapere di loro. E altri ancora vanno in rovina perché non sanno resistere ai piaceri della gola, o a quelli della bottiglia. Alcuni buttano tutti i loro beni nel gioco, oppure sacrificano ogni cosa per un'idea fissa, che mai potrà diventare realtà. Alcuni credono di poter essere felici solo in un luogo diverso da quello in cui si trovano e così passano la vita girando il mondo. E altri ancora non trovano pace fino a quando non hanno ottenuto il potere. Insomma ci sono tante e diverse passioni, quante e diverse sono le persone. ~ Michael Ende,
228:Wer niemals ganze Nachmittage lang mit glühenden Ohren und verstrubbeltem Haar über einem Buch saß und las und las und die Welt um sich her vergaß, nicht mehr merkte, daß er hungrig wurde oder fror -
Wer niemals heimlich beim Schein einer Taschenlampe unter der Bettdecke gelesen hat, weil Vater oder Mutter oder sonst irgendeine besorgte Person einem das Licht ausknipste mit der gutgemeinten Begründung, man müsse jetzt schlafen, da man doch morgen so früh aus den Federn sollte -
Wer niemals offen oder im geheimen bitterliche Tränen vergossen hat, weil eine wunderbare Geschichte zu Ende ging und man Abschied nehmen mußte von den Gestalten, mit denen man gemeinsam so viele Abenteuer erlebt hatte, die man liebte und bewunderte, um die man gebangt und für die man gehofft hatte, und ohne deren Gesellschaft einem das Leben leer und sinnlos schien -
Wer nichts von alledem aus eigener Erfahrung kennt, nun, der wird wahrscheinlich nicht begreifen können, was Bastian jetzt tat. ~ Michael Ende,
229:-¿De verdad -dice en voz baja- que no me quieres dar nada?

Por primera vez sonríe la muchacha y por primera vez parece precisamente por eso triste.

- ¿Te refieres a un ovillo de hilo que te servirá para volver a tientas después de llevar a cabo la hazaña? No te servirá de nada, amigo, pues en cuanto se cierre esa puerta detrás de ti no sabrás nada de mí, ni yo de ti. No sabrías siquiera lo que significa el ovillo inútil en la mano y lo tirarías. Sufrirás muchas transformaciones, pasarás de una imagen a otra. Y cada vez creerás despertar y no te acordarás de tu sueño anterior. Caerás del interior al interior del interior y seguirás hasta el más profundo interior, sin acordarte, a través de vidas y muertes y siempre serás otro y siempre el mismo, allí donde no hay diferencias. Pero no alcanzarás nunca a aquel a quien quieres matar, pues cuando lo hayas encontrado te habrás convertido en él. Tú serás él, la primera letra, el silencio que precede a todo. Entonces sabrás lo que es la soledad. ~ Michael Ende,
230:Siehst Du, Momo", sagte er, "es ist so: Manchmal hat man eine sehr lange Straße vor sich. Man denkt, die ist so schrecklich lang,
die kann man niemals schaffen, denkt man."
Er blickte eine Weile schweigend vor sich hin, dann fuhr er fort:
"Und dann fängt man an, sich zu eilen. Und man eilt sich immer mehr. Jedes Mal, wenn man aufblickt, sieht man, dass es gar nicht weniger wird, was noch vor einem liegt. Und man strengt sich noch mehr an, man kriegt es mit der Angst zu tun, und zum Schluss ist man ganz aus der Puste und kann nicht mehr. Und die Straße liegt immer noch vor einem.
So darf man es nicht machen!"

Er dachte einige Zeit nach. Dann sprach er weiter:
"Man darf nie an die ganze Straße auf einmal denken, verstehst Du? Man muss nur an den nächsten Schritt denken, den nächsten Atemzug, den nächsten Besenstrich. Und immer wieder nur den nächsten."
Wieder hielt er inne und überlegte, ehe er hinzufügte:
"Dann macht es Freude; das ist wichtig, dann macht man seine Sache gut. Und so soll es sein. ~ Michael Ende,
231:Am Anfang merkt man noch nicht viel davon. Man hat eines Tages keine Lust mehr irgendetwas zu tun. Nichts interessiert einen, man ödet sich. Aber diese Unlust verschwindet nicht wieder, sondern sie bleibt und nimmt langsam immer mehr zu. Sie wird schlimmer von Tag zu Tag, von Woche zu Woche. Man fühlt sich immer missmutiger, immer leerer im Innern, immer unzufriedener mit sich und der Welt. Dann hört nach und nach sogar dieses Gefühl auf und man fühlt gar nichts mehr. Man wird ganz gleichgültig und grau, die ganze Welt kommt einem fremd vor und geht einen nichts mehr an. Es gibt keinen Zorn mehr und keine Begeisterung, man kann sich nicht mehr freuen und nicht mehr trauern, man verlernt das Lachen und das Weinen. Dann ist es kalt geworden in einem und man kann nichts und niemand mehr lieb haben. Wenn es einmal so weit gekommen ist, dann ist die Krankheit unheilbar. Es gibt keine Rückkehr mehr. Man hastet mit leerem, grauem Gesicht umher, man ist genauso geworden wie die grauen Herren selbst. Ja, dann ist man einer der ihren. Diese Krankheit heißt: die tödliche Langeweile. ~ Michael Ende,
232:A veces tienes ante ti una calle larguísima. Te parece tan terriblemente larga, que nunca crees que podrás acabarla. Miró un rato en silencio a su alrededor; entonces siguió: - Y entonces te empiezas a dar prisa, cada vez más prisa. Cada vez que levantas la vista, ves que la calle no se hace más corta. Y te esfuerzas más todavía, empiezas a tener miedo, al final estás sin aliento. Y la calle sigue estando por delante. Así no se debe hacer. Pensó durante un rato. Entonces siguió hablando: - Nunca se ha de pensar en toda la calle de una vez, ¿entiendes? Sólo hay que pensar en el paso siguiente, en la inspiración siguiente, en la siguiente barrida. Nunca nada más que en el siguiente. Volvió a callar y reflexionar, antes de añadir: - Entonces es divertido; eso es importante, porque entonces se hace bien la tarea. Y así ha de ser. Después de una nueva y larga interrupción, siguió: - De repente se da uno cuenta de que, paso a paso, se ha barrido toda la calle. Uno no se da cuenta cómo ha sido, y no se está sin aliento. Asintió en silencio y dijo, poniendo punto final: - Eso es importante. ~ Michael Ende,
233:Le passioni umane sono una cosa molto misteriosa e per i bambini le cose non stanno diversamente che per i grandi.
Coloro che ne vengono colpiti non le sanno spiegare, e coloro che non hanno mai provato nulla di simile non le possono comprendere.
Ci sono persone che mettono in gioco la loro esistenza per raggiungere la vetta di una montagna.
A nessuno, neppure a se stessi, potrebbero realmente spiegare perché lo fanno.
Altri si rovinano per conquistare il cuore di una persona che non ne vuole sapere di loro.
E altri ancora vanno in rovina perché non sanno resistere ai piaceri della gola, o a quelli della bottiglia.
Alcuni buttano tutti i loro beni nel gioco, oppure sacrificano ogni cosa per un’idea fissa, che mai potrà diventare realtà.
Altri credono di poter essere felici soltanto in un luogo diverso da quello dove si trovano e così passano la vita girando il mondo.
E altri ancora non trovano pace fino a quando non hanno ottenuto il potere.
Insomma, ci sono tante e diverse passioni, quante e diverse sono le persone.
Per Bastiano Baldassare Bucci la passione erano i libri. ~ Michael Ende,
234:You see, Momo,' he [Beppo Roadsweeper] told her one day, '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.'
He gazed silently into space before continuing. 'And then you start to hurry,' he went on. 'You work faster and faster, and every time you look up there seems to be just as much left 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 front of you. That's not the way to do it.'
He pondered a while. Then he said, 'You must never think of the whole street at once, understand? You must only concentrate on the next step, the next breath, the next stroke of the broom, and the next, and the next. Nothing else.'
Again he paused for thought before adding, 'That way you enjoy your work, which is important, because then you make a good job of it. And that's how it ought to be.'
There was another long silence. At last he went on, 'And all at once, before you know it, you find you've swept the whole street clean, bit by bit. What's more, you aren't out of breath.' He nodded to himself. 'That's important, too,' he concluded. ~ Michael Ende,
235:What do you suppose it means?' he asked. ' "Do what you wish." That must mean I can do anything I feel like. Don't you think so?
All at once Grograman's face looked alarmingly grave, and his eyes glowed.
'No,' he said in his deep rumbling voice. 'It means that you must do what you really and truly want. And nothing is more difficult.' ... 'It's your own deepest secret and you don't know it.'
'How can I find out?'
'By going the way of your wishes, fro one to another, from first to last. It will take you to what you really and truly want.'
'That doesn't sound so hard,' said Bastian.
'It is the most dangerous of all journeys.'
'Why? Bastian asked. 'I'm not afraid.'
'That isn't it,' Grograman rumbled. 'It requires the greatest honesty and vigilance, because there's no other journey on which it's so easy to lose yourself forever.'
'Do you mean because our wishes aren't always good?' Bastian asked.
The lion lashed the sand he was lying on with his tail. His ears lay flat, he screwed up his nose, and his eyes flashed fire. Involuntarily Bastian ducked when Grograman's voice once again made the earth tremble: 'What do you know about wishes? How would you know what's good and what isn't?' In the days that followed Bastian thought a good deal about what the Many-Colored Death had said. There are some things, however, that we cannot fathom by thinking about them, but only by experience. ~ Michael Ende,
236:Este señor se compone sólo de letras. De muchísimas letras, se entiende, de un número astronómico de letras, pero al fin y al cabo sólo de letras.
Aquí está su amiga. Es, como se ve, de carne y hueso. ¡Y de qué carne! Da gusto verla, ¡y no digamos tocarla!
Los dos van ahora juntos a la feria. En la góndola y la noria todo va bien todavía. Pero luego llegan a una caseta de tiro al blanco; un tiro al blanco un poco extraño, esa es la verdad.
¡Pruébate a ti mismo!, puede leerse en grandes letras en la parte de arriba. Y más abajo figuran las reglas. Sólo son tres:
1. Cada tiro es un blanco garantizado.
2. Por cada blanco, un tiro gratis.
3. El primer tiro es gratuito.
El señor que rodea con el brazo la cintura de su amiga estudia atentamente el letrero. Quiere seguir su camino rápidamente, pero ella insiste en que haga uso de la ventajosa oferta. Quiere ver de lo que es capaz.
Pero el señor no quiere.
-¿Pero por qué no, cariño? ¿Qué tiene de malo?
Tiene de malo que hay que disparar sobre un blanco bastante insólito, sobre uno mismo, es decir, sobre la propia imagen reflejada en un espejo de metal. Y el señor de letras no se siente en absoluto lo bastante real para distinguir de una manera tan arriesgada entre sí y su imagen reflejada.
-¡O disparas -dice la amiga, por fin, furiosa-, o te dejo!
El sacude la cabeza. Entonces ella se va con otro, un carnicero que entiende de carnes y huesos.
El señor se queda solo y la sigue con la mirada. Cuando desaparece de su vista en el gentío, él se deshace lentamente en un pequeño montón de diminutas minúsculas y mayúsculas que la multitud pisotea al pasar.
La verdad es que para eso podría hacer disparado, ¿verdad? ~ Michael Ende,
237:Le passioni umane sono una cosa molto misteriosa e per i bambini le cose non stanno diversamente che per i grandi. Coloro che ne vengono colpiti non le sanno spiegare, e coloro che non hanno mai provato nulla di simile non le possono comprendere. Ci sono persone che mettono in gioco la loro esistenza per raggiungere la vetta di una montagna. A nessuno, neppure a se stessi, potrebbero realmente spiegare perché lo fanno. Altri si rovinano per conquistare il cuore di una persona che non ne vuole sapere di loro. E altri ancora vanno in rovina perché non sanno resistere ai piaceri della gola, o a quelli della bottiglia. Alcuni buttano tutti i loro beni nel gioco, oppure sacrificano ogni cosa per un'idea fissa, che mai potrà diventare realtà. Altri credono di poter essere felici soltanto in un luogo diverso da quello dove si trovano e così passano la vita girando il mondo. E altri ancora non trovano pace fino a quando non hanno ottenuto il potere. Insomma, ci sono tante e diverse passioni, quante e diverse sono le persone.
Per Bastiano Baldassarre Bucci la passione erano i libri.
Chi non ha mai passato interi pomeriggi con le orecchie in fiamme e i capelli ritti in testa chino su un libro, dimenticando tutto il resto del mondo intorno a sé, senza più accorgersi di aver fame o freddo;
chi non ha mai letto sotto le coperte, al debole bagliore di una minuscola lampadina tascabile, perché altrimenti il papà o la mamma o qualche altra persona si sarebbero preoccupati di spegnere il lume per la buona ragione ch'era ora di dormire, dal momento che l'indomani mattina bisognava alzarsi presto;
chi non ha mai versato, apertamente o in segreto, amare lacrime perché una storia meravigliosa era finita ed era venuto il momento di dire addio a tanti personaggi con i quali si erano vissute tante straordinarie avventure, a creature che si era imparato ad amare e ammirare, per le quali si era temuto e sperato e senza le quali d'improvviso la vita pareva così vuota e priva di interesse; chi non conosce questo per sua personale esperienza, costui molto probabilmente non potrà comprendere ciò che fece allora Bastiano.
Fissava il titolo del libro e si sentiva percorrere da vampate di caldo e di freddo. Questo, ecco, proprio questo era ciò che lui aveva sognato tanto spesso e che sempre aveva desiderato da quando era caduto in preda alla sua passione: una storia che non dovesse mai aver fine. Il libro di tutti i libri. ~ Michael Ende,
238:«Le strade di Fantàsia», disse Graogramàn, «le puoi trovare solo grazie ai tuoi desideri. E ogni volta puoi procedere soltanto da un desiderio al successivo. Quello che non desideri ti rimane inaccessibile. Questo è ciò che qui significano le parole 'vicino' e 'lontano'. E non basta volere soltanto andar via da un luogo. Devi desiderarne un altro. Devi lasciarti guidare dai tuoi desideri.»
«Ma io non desidero affatto andarmene da qui», ribatté Bastiano.
«Dovrai trovare il tuo prossimo desiderio», replicò Graogramàn in tono quasi severo.
«E quando l'avrò trovato», fece Bastiano di rimando, «come potrò andarmene da qui?»
«Ascolta, mio signore», disse Graogramàn a voce bassa, «in Fantàsia c'è un luogo che conduce ovunque e al quale si può giungere da ogni parte. Viene chiamato il Tempio delle Mille Porte. Nessuno lo ha visto dall'esterno, perché non ha un esterno. Il suo interno consiste in un labirinto di porte. Chi lo vuole conoscere deve avere il coraggio di inoltrarsi in quel labirinto.»
«Ma come è possibile, se non ci si può avvicinare dall'esterno?»
«Ogni porta», continuò il leone, «ogni porta in tutta Fantàsia, persino una comunissima porta di cucina o di stalla, sicuro, persino l'anta di un armadio, può in un determinato momento diventare la porta d'ingresso al Tempio delle Mille Porte. Passato quell'attimo, torna a essere quello che era, una porta qualsiasi. Perciò nessuno
può passare per più di una volta dalla stessa porta. E nessuna delle mille porte riconduce là da dove si è venuti. Non esiste ritorno.»
«Ma una volta che si è dentro», domandò Bastiano, «si può uscirne?»
«Sicuro», rispose il leone, «però non è così facile come nei soliti edifici. Perché attraverso il labirinto delle Mille Porte ti può guidare solo un vero desiderio. Chi non lo ha è costretto a continuare a vagarci dentro fino a quando sa esattamente che cosa desidera. E questo talvolta richiede molto tempo.»
«E come si fa a trovare la porta d'ingresso?»
«Bisogna desiderarlo.»
Bastiano rifletté a lungo e poi disse:
«È strano che non si possa semplicemente desiderare quello che si vuole. Ma, per la verità, da dove ci vengono i desideri? E che cos'è un desiderio?»
Graogramàn guardò il ragazzo a occhi spalancati, ma non rispose.

Qualche giorno più tardi ebbero un altro colloquio molto importante.
Bastiano aveva mostrato al leone la scritta sul rovescio dell'amuleto. «Che cosa può significare?» domandò. «FA' CIO' CHE VUOI, questo vuol dire che posso fare tutto quello che mi pare, non credi?»
Il volto di Graogramàn assunse d'improvviso un'espressione di terribile serietà e i suoi occhi divennero fiammanti.
«No», esclamò con quella sua voce profonda e tonante, «vuol dire che devi fare quel che è la tua vera volontà. E nulla è più difficile.»
«La mia vera volontà?» ripeté Bastiano impressionato. «E che cosa sarebbe?»
«È il tuo più profondo segreto, quello che tu non conosci.»
«E come posso arrivare a conoscerlo?»
«Camminando nella strada dei desideri, dall'uno all'altro, e fino all'ultimo. L'ultimo ti condurrà alla tua vera volontà.»
«Ma questo non mi pare tanto difficile.»
«Di tutte le strade è la più pericolosa», replicò il leone.
«Perché?» domandò Bastiano. «Io non ho paura.»
«Non è di questo che si tratta», ruggì Graogramàn, «ciò richiede la massima sincerità e attenzione, perché non c'è altra strada su cui sia tanto facile perdersi definitivamente.» ~ Michael Ende,

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