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Why did death make life taste so much sweeter? Why could the heart love only what it could also lose?

Cornelia Funke

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Cornelia Funke
Age: 65
Born: 1958
Born: December 10
Author
Illustrator
Screenwriter
Writer
Heart
Much
Make
Sweeter
Love
Taste
Life
Lose
Loses
Death
Also

More quotes by Cornelia Funke

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No prince had lived in those wretched hovels, no red-robed bishops, only farmers and laborers whose stories no one had written down, and now they were lost, buried under wild thyme and fast growing spurge.
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a book always keeps something of its owner between its pages.
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If I was a book, I would like to be a library book, so I would be taken home by all different sorts of kids.
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I wish you luck,' she said, kissing him on the cheek. He still had the most beautiful eyes of any boy she'd ever seen. But now her heart beat so much faster for someone else.
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Beauty and fear make uneasy companions
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Didn't books say that too: that there is always price to pay for happiness?
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What a plague love is!
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The book she had been reading was under her pillow, pressing its cover against her ear as if to lure her back into its printed pages.
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We all know what fun it can be to get right into a book and live there for a while, but falling out of a story and suddenly finding yourself in this world doesn't seem to be much fun at all.
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They're all cruel,' he said. 'The world I come from, the world you come from, and this one, too. Maybe the people don't see the cruelty in your world right away, it's better hidden, but it's there all the same.
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You really don't understand the first thing about writing...for one thing, early in the morning is the worst possible time. the brain is like a wet sponge at that hour. And for another, real writing is a question of staring into space and waiting for the right ideas.
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Let's be off before he gets his great horsey teeth into my poor lines of verse!
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Everyone is small at night.
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Second, there are so many magical places in books that you cant go to, like Hogwarts and Middle Earth, so I wanted to set a story in a place where children can actually go.
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Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but don't come back, ok?
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Memories, so sweet and bitter.. they had both nourished and devoured him for so many years. Until a time came when they began to fade, turning faint and blurred, only an ache to be quickly pushed away because it went to your heart. For what was the use of remembering all you had lost?
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There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife.
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Meggie Folchart: Having writer's block? Maybe I can help. Fenoglio: Oh yes, that's right. You want to be a writer, don't you? Meggie Folchart: You say that as if it's a bad thing. Fenoglio: Oh no, it's just a lonely thing. Sometimes the world you create on the page seems more friendly and alive than the world you actually live in.
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He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. His skin was wet with rain. When she didn't pull away, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, on her forehead, on her nose, on her mouth once more. You will come, won't you? Promisse! he whispered.
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My son always says I like very weird music.
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