Mans brīnišķīgais gājiens uz veikalu: nopirku kausēto sieru un dažādus dārzeņus un sajūsminājos, kā to visu rīt ēdīšu brokastīs, un tad atcerējos, ka esmu aizmirsusi nopirkt maizi. Un vēl sliktāk - ejot uz veikalu, es neatcerējos, ka man jāatceras nopirkt kafiju. Otrreiz es tur vairs neskriešu, un, man arī šķiet, ka man nepietiek skaidras naudas.

Es jau gandrīz gadu nevaru atcerēties nopirkt sev lietussagu. Un cilvēki man mēdz ar līdzjūtību balsī teikt "vai, tu esi aizmirsusi mājās lietussargu!":D

"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, months 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." Professor Hora looked at Momo searchingly. "But I don't suppose that makes much sense to you, does it?"
"Yes," said Momo, "I think so." Then, recalling her strange progress along Never Lane and the way she'd lived through everything in reverse, she asked, "Are you Death?"
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."
"Why not tell them, then?" Momo suggested.
"I already do," said the professor. "I tell them the meaning of death with every hour I send them, but they refuse to listen. They'd sooner heed those who frighten them. That's another riddle in itself."

(Michael Ende "Momo")

"Professor Hora," Momo whispered, "I never knew that everyone's time was so --" she strove to find the right word, but in vain -- "so big," she said eventually.
"What you've just seen and heard wasn't everyone's time," the professor replied, "it was only your own. There's a place like the one you visited in every living soul, but only those who let me take them there can reach it, nor can it be seen with ordinary eyes."
"So where was I?"
"In the depths of your own heart," said the professor, gently stroking her tousled hair.
"Professor Hora," she whispered again, "may I bring my friends to see you too?"
"No," he said, "not yet. That isn't possible."
"How long can I stay with you, then?"
"Until you feel it's time to rejoin your friends, my child."
"But may I tell them what the stars were saying?"
"You may, but you won't be able to."
"Why not?"
"Because, before you can, the words must take root inside you."
"But I want to tell them -- all of them. I want to sing them what the voices sang. Then everything would come right again, I think."
"If that's what you really want, Momo, you must learn to wait."
"I don't mind waiting."
"I mean, wait like a seed that must slumber in the earth before it can sprout. That's how long the words will take to grow up inside you. Is that what you want?"
"Yes," she whispered.

(Michael Ende "Momo")