Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold.

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.

Only the right name gives beings and things their reality. A wrong name makes everything unreal. That's what lies do.

Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold.

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.

There are many kinds of delusion.

Momo listened to everyone and everything - even to the rain and the wind and the pine trees - and all of them spoke to her after their own fashion.