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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.

Cornelia Funke

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Cornelia Funke
Age: 65
Born: 1958
Born: December 10
Author
Illustrator
Screenwriter
Writer
Live
Finding
Book
Seem
Right
Fun
Much
Story
World
Fall
Doesn
Falling
Stories
Suddenly
Seems
Findings

More quotes by Cornelia Funke

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-You forgot something important! -What? -It's under my sweater! -WHAT?! -Me!
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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 love to read aloud.
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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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A library book, I imagine, is a happy book.
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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.
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How fast the ears learned to tell what sounds meant, much faster than it took the eyes to decipher written words.
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Fire and water, he said, don't really mix. You could say they're incompatible. But when they do love each other, they love passionately.
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What a plague love is!
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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.
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What was a slap for ten pages of escapism, ten pages far from everything that made him unhappy, ten pages of real life instead of the monotony that other people called the real world?
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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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She wanted to return to her dream. Perhaps it was still somewhere there behind her closed eyelids. Perhaps a little of its happiness still clung like gold dust to her lashes. Don't dreams in fairy tales sometimes leave a token behind?
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The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.
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Since when does the butterfly ask about the caterpillar?
Cornelia Funke
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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.
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The spoken word is nothing. It hardly lives longer than an insect! Only the written word is eternal. - Balbulus
Cornelia Funke
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Where did the love come from? What was it made of?
Cornelia Funke
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Nothing chased nightmares away faster than the rustle of printed paper.
Cornelia Funke
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My wife loves written words ... you know, words that stick to parchment and paper like dead flies, and it seems my father felt the same - but I want to hear words! Remember that when you are looking for the right words: You must ask yourself what they SOUND like! Glowing with passion, dark with sorrow, sweet with love, that's what I want. - Cosimo
Cornelia Funke