In that case,″ said Momo, ″why not simply arrange things so they don't have any more of it stolen by the time-thieves?″
I can't,″ the professor told her. ″What people do with their time is their own business.
They must guard it themselves. I can only distribute it.″
Momo looked around the great hall.Is that why you keep all these clocks - one for every person in the world?″
No, Momo, these clocks are just a hobby of mine. They're very imperfect copies of something that everyone carries inside him.
Just as people have eyes to see light with and ears to hear sounds with, so they have hearts for the appreciation of time.
And all the time they fail to appreciate is as wasted on them as the colours of the rainbow are wasted on a blind person
or the nightingale's song on a deaf one. Some hearts are unappreciative of time, I fear, though they beat like all the rest.″
″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.″
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