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The truth's not pretty of course. No one likes to look it in the face.
Cornelia Funke
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Cornelia Funke
Age: 65
Born: 1958
Born: December 10
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More quotes by Cornelia Funke
Let's be off before he gets his great horsey teeth into my poor lines of verse!
Cornelia Funke
My son always says I like very weird music.
Cornelia Funke
Accursed, blasted, heartless things [books]! Full of empty promises, full of false lures, always making you hungry, never satisfying you, never!
Cornelia Funke
Believe, believe, believe
Cornelia Funke
What on earth have you packed in here? Bricks? asked Mo as he carried Meggie's book-box out of the house. You're the one who says books have to be heavy because the whole world's inside them, said Meggie.
Cornelia Funke
She had only to open a door, nothing but a door between the words,just large enough for her and Farid to pass through.
Cornelia Funke
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.
Cornelia Funke
Words,words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers.
Cornelia Funke
So it's happened, I kept thinking, you're in the middle of a story exactly as you've always wanted, and it's horrible. Fear tastes quite different when you're not just reading about it, Meggie, and playing hero wasn't half as much fun as I'd expected.
Cornelia Funke
The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.
Cornelia Funke
Nothing is more terrifying than fearlessness.
Cornelia Funke
I think we should sometimes read stories where everything's different from our world, don't you agree? There's nothing's like it for teaching us to wonder why trees are green and not red, and why we have five fingers rather than six.' --spoken by The Bluejay, aka Mo the Bookbinder, from 'Inkdeath
Cornelia Funke
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
What a plague love is!
Cornelia Funke
Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but don't come back, ok?
Cornelia Funke
You know, it's a funny thing about writers. Most people don't stop to think of books being written by people much like themselves. They think that writers are all dead long ago--they don't expect to meet them in the street or out shopping. They know their stories but not their names, and certainly not their faces. And most writers like it that way.
Cornelia Funke
My children were all made from paper and printer's ink.
Cornelia Funke
And there stood Basta with his foot already on another dead body, smiling. Why not? He had hit his target, and it was the target he had been aiming for all along: Dustfinger’s heart, his stupid heart. It broke in two as he held Farid in his arms, it simply broke in two, although he had taken such good care of it all these years.
Cornelia Funke
Women were different, no doubt about it. Men broke so much more quickly. Grief didn't break women. Instead it wore them down, it hollowed them out very slowly.
Cornelia Funke
Every reader knows about the feeling that characters in books seem more real than real people.
Cornelia Funke
