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The Fairy's dress rustled as she turned. Human women dressed like flowers, layers of petals around a mortal, rotting core.

Cornelia Funke

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Cornelia Funke
Age: 65
Born: 1958
Born: December 10
Author
Illustrator
Screenwriter
Writer
Human
Flowers
Rustled
Humans
Dress
Rotting
Like
Dresses
Petals
Core
Dressed
Turned
Mortal
Flower
Layers
Around
Mortals
Women
Fairy

More quotes by Cornelia Funke

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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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This book taught me, once and for all, how easily you can escape this world with the help of words! You can find friends between the pages of a book, wonderful friends.
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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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Dustfinger still clearly remembered the feeling of being in love for the first time. How vulnerable his heart had suddenly been! Such a trembling, quivering thing, happy and miserably unhappy at once.
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Sometimes, when you're so sad you don't know what to do, it helps to be angry.
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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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When you open a book it's like going to the theater first you see the curtain then it is pulled aside and the show begins.
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Quite suddenly Meggie felt fear rise in her like black brackish water, she felt lost, terribly lost, she felt it in every part of her. She didn't belong here! What had she done?
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I just did a picture book called The Wildest Brother on Earth, and you will find both of my children in there.
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Children are caterpillars and adults are butterflies. No butterfly ever remembers what it felt like being a caterpillar.
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Go back and rid the word of that book. Fill it with words before spring comes, or winter will never end for you. And I will take not only your life for the Adderhead's but your daughter's, too, because she helped you bind the book. Do you undersand, Bluejay Why two? asked Mo hoarsely. How can you ask for two lives in return for one?
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A library book, I imagine, is a happy book.
Cornelia Funke
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Believe, believe, believe
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I always wanted to ride a dragon myself, so I decided to do this for a year in my imagination.
Cornelia Funke
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The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.
Cornelia Funke
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My children were all made from paper and printer's ink.
Cornelia Funke
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Are you really going to catch us and take us back to Esther? We don’t belong to her, you know.” Embarrassed, Victor stared at his shoes. “Well, children all have to belong to somebody,” he muttered. “Do you belong to someone?” “That’s different.” “Because you’re a grown-up?
Cornelia Funke
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Where did the love come from? What was it made of?
Cornelia Funke
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Reality is a fragile thing.
Cornelia Funke
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Every German child learns to speak English in school.
Cornelia Funke