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I have two Iceland horses, a very hairy dog called Looney, and a guinea pig.

Cornelia Funke

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Cornelia Funke
Age: 65
Born: 1958
Born: December 10
Author
Illustrator
Screenwriter
Writer
Guinea
Pigs
Horses
Dog
Horse
Called
Two
Hairy
Iceland

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My dear Elinor, you were obviously born into the wrong story,” said Dustfinger at last.
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Words are immortal - Elinor
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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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Beauty and fear make uneasy companions
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Mortimer's face twisted when the Piper pressed his knife against his ribs. Oh yes, he's obviously made the wrong enemies in this story, thought Orpheus. And the wrong friends. But that was high-minded heroes for you. Stupid.
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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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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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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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Why did death make life taste so much sweeter? Why could the heart love only what it could also lose?
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Words,words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers.
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Everyone is small at night.
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He longed for the deep as she longed for the night sky and for white lilies floating on water -- although she still tried to convince herself that love alone could feed her soul.
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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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Didn't books say that too: that there is always price to pay for happiness?
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Life was more difficult in Inkheart, yet it seemed to Meggie that with every new day Fenoglio's story was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as a spider's web and enchantingly beautiful.
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