Quotes from Cornelia Funke

It had always been a myth that it was those who loved you who could see through you. It was those you feared who could see through you most clearly.

Love is always a prison.

Belive you me, this maze is a labrinth!

What was she hoping to gain from his death? That it would numb the pain of his betrayal, or heal her injured pride? Her red sister didn't know much about love.

The Magpie took off her glove and looked scornfully at him. Basta likes to use snakes to scare woman that reject his advances. It didn't work with Resa. How did it go exactly - didn't she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?

Buecher muessen schwer sein, weil die ganze Welt in ihnen steckt!

Wie es so schoen bei Shakespeare heisst: "Jeder spielt seine Rolle, und meine ist eine traurige.

If I was a book, I would like to be a library book, so I would be taken home by all different sorts of kids.

Sometimes, through the window of a car coming the other way, she caught a glimpse if a stranger's face, then it was gone, like a book you open then close at once.

Nothing was more cruel than a heart made of flesh and blood, because it knew what gives pain.

What else but death could you hope to reap when you gave your heart to a mortal?

Yesterday. Was there a more merciless word?

Nulla è eterno, Balbulus. E che cosa c'è di meglio, per le parole, che essere cantate in giro? Sì, certo, ogni volta mutano, hanno una melodia diversa. Ma non è questo il bello?

For a moment Dustfinger felt as if he had never been away- as if he had simply had a bad dream, and the memory of it had left a stale taste on his tongue,a shadow on his heart,nothing more.

Sometimes Fox thought all the men she knew had the dreams and wishes of nine-year-old boys—at least all the men she liked.

Was she happy? Yes. And no. Because now the words were back, and with them the name that had spun gold around her heart for so long she hardly remembered how things had felt before him.

How clear one's own desires become once they are made impossible.

For Her Ugliness loved stories full of darkness. She didn't want to be told tales of good fortune and beauty, she liked to hear about death, ugly things, secrets heavy with tears. She wanted her very own world, and it had never heard of beauty and good fortune.

Oh, putrid puffballs! Stop winding us all up like this or I'll tie a knot in your tail!

Ich bin ein Bücherfresser

The wrong words. They were true a hundred times over, yet they sounded like a lie. Hadn't he always know it? Words were useless. At times they might sound wonderful, but they let you down the moments you really needed them . You could never find the right words, never, and where would you look for them? The heart is a silent as a fish, however much the tongue tries to give it a voice.

Das Buch wird anfangen, deine Erinnerungen zu sammeln. Du wirst es spaeter nur aufschlagen muessen und schon wirst du wieder dort sein, wo du zuerst darin gelesen hast. An nichts haften Erinnerungen so gut wie an bedruckten Seiten.

I think I'll buy you from your father so you can say nice things like that to me three times a day. How much for her, Mo?

In love. [Her] face was burning. She didn't want [him] to say what she herself never put into words. In love - it sounded like a sickness without any cure, and wasn't that just how it sometimes felt?