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No prince had lived in those wretched hovels, no red-robed bishops, only farmers and laborers whose stories no one had written down, and now they were lost, buried under wild thyme and fast growing spurge.
Cornelia Funke
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Cornelia Funke
Age: 65
Born: 1958
Born: December 10
Author
Illustrator
Screenwriter
Writer
Whose
Wretched
Growing
Prince
Written
Farmers
Lost
Buried
Hovels
Stories
Wild
Robed
Red
Thyme
Fast
Laborers
Lived
Bishops
More quotes by Cornelia Funke
Memories, so sweet and bitter.. they had both nourished and devoured him for so many years. Until a time came when they began to fade, turning faint and blurred, only an ache to be quickly pushed away because it went to your heart. For what was the use of remembering all you had lost?
Cornelia Funke
They wouldn't tell Scipio how much of the counterfeit cash was left since, as Riccio put it, 'You're a detective now, after all.
Cornelia Funke
Don't let it worry you, not being able to speak,'Dustfinger had often told her. 'People tend not to listen anyway, right?
Cornelia Funke
There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife.
Cornelia Funke
Let's run away to Venice, and hide out in an old movie theater. We can dye our hair blonde, so no one will ever find us!
Cornelia Funke
Perhaps the story in the book is just the lid on a pan: It always stays the same, but underneath there's a whole world that goes on - developing and changing like our own world.
Cornelia Funke
Reality is a fragile thing.
Cornelia Funke
Her curiosity was too much for her. She felt almost as if she could hear the books whispering on the other side of the half-open door. They were promising her a thousand unknown stories, a thousand doors into worlds she had never seen before.
Cornelia Funke
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.
Cornelia Funke
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?
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
Everyone is small at night.
Cornelia Funke
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.
Cornelia Funke
Since when does the butterfly ask about the caterpillar?
Cornelia Funke
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.
Cornelia Funke
Words,words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers.
Cornelia Funke
Why did death make life taste so much sweeter? Why could the heart love only what it could also lose?
Cornelia Funke
Words were useless. At times, they might sound wonderful, but they let you down the moment you really needed them. You could never find the right words, never, and where would you look for them? The heart is as silent as a fish, however much the tongue tries to give it a voice.
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
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?
Cornelia Funke
