Quotes from Cornelia Funke

Oh, pestiferous parasols!" grumbled Sorrel.

The written word is a powerful thing, you have to be careful with it.

Historier har aldrig nogen slutning, Meggie" havde han engang sagt til hende, "selvom bøgerne gerne vil bilde os det ind. Historierne går altid videre, de slutte lige så lidt på den sidste side, som de begynder på den første.

We both 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.

It sounded as if his mother were breaking into small pieces, such tiny pieces that no one would ever be able to put her together again. But he wanted to keep her!

Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way. Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

Jacob had seen too many horses whipped half to death to find anything romantic about horse-drawn carriages

Tapi suatu saat nanti dia mungkin akan semiskin tikus karena membelanjakan semua uangnya untuk membeli buku. Aku takut dia juga tak akan ragu menjual jiwanya jika ada iblis yang bisa memberikan buku yang diinginkannya

widened greedily, Meggie concluded they could only be discussing a book

It must be a dangerous world." Meggie was trying to imagine it all: the giants, the trolls, and the fairies. Mo had once given her a book about fairies. Dustfinger shrugged. "Yes, it's dangerous, so what? This world's dangerous, too, isn't it?

Resa longed for the kitchen, always full of the humming of the oversize fridge, for mo's workshop in the garden, and the armchair in the library where you could sit and visit strange worlds without getting lost in them

The Hartliebs had no time for the snow. Outside their window, San Giorgio Maggiore seemed to be floating on the lagoon as if it had just surfaced there. The view was so beautiful that Victor felt his heart ache. Esther and her husband, however, stood side by side with their backs to the window.

He sought her lips as if he needed to breathe through her, as if only she could keep him from choking on his rage.

She] did not reply. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to listen to what her bewildered heart was telling her.

EShe wanted to compare Meggie to a hero from some story, but all the heroes she could think of were men, and anyway none of them seemed to her brave enough for comparison with a girl standing there perfectly straight, scrutinizing Capricorn's men with her chin jutting out defiantly.

The road went ever more steeply downhill. Overhead, the branches of the trees intertwined. It was a still, windless morning, cloudy and damp.

The wrong boy. But what did the heart care about that?

the sly smile hides the broken heart

aber keine von ihnen war so recht bei der Sache und das Gefühl, das sich sonst sofort eingestellt hatte, wenn sie zusammen im Wohnwagen saßen, das Gefühl von Geborgenheit, von Freiheit und Freundschaft, wollte sich einfach nicht einstellen. Als hätte der Wohnwagen plötzlich Löcher und flüsterte ihnen all das über die Welt zu, was sie nicht wissen wollten.

A wedding, a daughter in payment, and a white dress to hide all the bloody battlefields.

Although it's not just plants and animals that die out, so do books. Quite often, I'm sorry to say. I'm sure you could fill a hundred houses like this one to the roof with all the books that have disappeared forever.

Sometimes Dustfinger thought Basta's constant fear of curses and sudden disaster probably arose from his terror of the darkness within himself, which made him assume that the rest of the world must be exactly the same. Dustfinger

The Dark Fairy touched her chest. No heart, like her sisters. So where did the love come from?

She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it. Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies. J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan