Quote

Many [book] even lay flat in the floor open. Their spines upward. Elinor couldn't bear to look! Didn't the monster know that was the way to break a book's neck?

Cornelia Funke

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Cornelia Funke
Age: 65
Born: 1958
Born: December 10
Author
Illustrator
Screenwriter
Writer
Book
Lays
Spine
Looks
Bear
Monster
Bears
Flat
Many
Couldn
Neck
Even
Open
Flats
Way
Break
Necks
Elinor
Didn
Floor
Spines
Look
Monsters
Upward

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What are stories for if we don't learn from them?
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What a plague love is!
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Ten minutes can be a long time when you're waiting with a beating heart for something you don't understand, something you don't really want to know.
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Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but don't come back, ok?
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I love to read aloud.
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You know a great many things in dreams, often despite the evidence of your eyes. You just know them.
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It's a good idea to have your own books with you in a strange place
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My dear Elinor, you were obviously born into the wrong story,” said Dustfinger at last.
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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?
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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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And I always read the English translation and always have conversations with my translator, for example about the names. I always have to approve it.
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The heart was a weak, changeable thing, bent on nothing but love, and there could be no more fatal mistake than to make it your master. Reason must be in charge. It comforted you for the heart's foolishness, it sang mocking songs about love, derided it as a whim of nature, transient as flowers. So why did she still keep following her heart?
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I wish I had more time to visit schools.
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She had found him and was bringing back his thanks. Nor did she forget to mention that he had assured her that she was indeed the most beautiful fairy he had ever set eyes on.
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The truth's not pretty of course. No one likes to look it in the face.
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The night breathed through the apartment like a dark animal. The ticking of a clock. The groan of a floorboard as he slipped out of his room. All was drowned by its silence. But Jacob loved the night. He felt it on his skin like a promise. Like a cloak woven from freedom and danger.
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Thats beautiful! Sad and beautiful, murmured Meggie. Why were sad stories often so beautiful? It was different in real life.
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She had only to open a door, nothing but a door between the words,just large enough for her and Farid to pass through.
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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.
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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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