Alman fantastik cocuk kitapları yazari Michael Ende'nin olum yil donumu (28 Agustos 1995)
"Onceleri pek farkina varilmaz. Gunun birinde insanin cani artik hicbir sey yapmak istemez. Hicbir seyle ilgilenmez, kurur gider. Ve bu isteksizlik gecici degildir. Hatta giderek artar. Gunden gune, haftadan haftaya daha kotu olur. Kendinden hoslanmaz, ici bombostur, dunyayla bagdasamaz. Sonralari bu hisler de kalmaz, hicbir sey hissetmez olur. Butun dunyaya yabancilasmistir, kimse onu ilgilendirmez olmustur. Ne kizginlik duyar, ne hayranlik. Ne sevinmesini bilir, ne uzulmesini. Gulmeyi de, aglamayi da unutmustur. Boyle bir insanin ici kaskati kesilir. Artik hicbir seyi, hic kimseyi sevemez. Bu durumda, artik hastanin iyilesmesine olanak yoktur. Donus kalmamistir. Bombos, kul rengi bir yuzle, nefretle cevresine bakar, tipki duman adamlar gibi. Onlardan biri olup cikmistir. Hastaligin adina gelince, buna 'olduren can sikintisi'denir." Momo
"A fatal illness, though you scarcely notice it at first. One day, you don't feel like doing anything. Nothing interests you, everything bores you. Far from wearing off, your boredom persists and gets worse, day by day and week by week. You feel more and more bad-tempered, more and more empty inside, more and more dissatisfied with yourself and the world in general. Then even that feeling wears off, and you don't feel anything any more. You become completely indifferent to what goes on around you. Joy and sorrow, anger and excitement are things of the past. You forget how to laugh and cry - you're cold inside and incapable of loving anything or anyone. Once you reach that stage, the disease is incurable. There's no going back. You bustle around with a blank, gray face, just like the men in gray themselves - indeed, you've attend their ranks. The disease has a name. It's called 'deadly tedium'."


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