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

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”