Quotes from Cornelia Funke

Hat meine Schwester dir gesagt, dass jeder Mensch, der meinen Namen ausspricht, des Todes ist?

Gefährlich ... seit wann interessiert dich das?

Jacob hatte sich immer gefragt, ob es nur einen Spiegel gab. Offenbar war die Antwort Nein.

Take my advice Meggie: Never develop a passion you can't afford!

Oh, that's not easy,' he mumbled. Two souls in one heart. I hope the human in you won't prove to be stronger in the end. They find it so much harder to make peace with the world.

Books have to be heavy because the whole world's inside them…

If you take a book with you on a journey…an odd thing happens: The book begins collecting your memories. And forever after you only have to open that book to be back where you first read it.

If you take a book with you on a journey," Mo had said when he put the first one in her box, "an odd thing happens: The book begins collecting your memories. And forever after you have only to open that book to be back where you first read it. It will all come into your mind with the very first words: the sights you saw in that place, what it smelled like

If you are a dreamer, come in If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A Hope-er, a Pray-er, a Magic Bean buyer, If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin Come in! Come in! Shel Silverstein

What child unable to sleep on a warm summer night hasn't thought he saw Peter Pan's sailing ship in the sky? I will teach you to see that ship. Roberto Cotroneo, When a Child on a Summer Morning

He had never taken any interest in what came after death, either in this world or the other one. Probably just silence, silence without a single word of comfort.

The blue of my eyes was extinguished tonight The red gold of my heart Georg Trakl, 'By Night', Poems

You don't know about me, without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, but that ain't no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

And that's when she put her book down. And looked at me. And said it: "Life isn't fair, Bill. We tell our children that it is, but it's a terrible thing to do. It's not only a lie, it's a cruel lie. Life is not fair, and it never has been, and it's never going to be." William Goldman, The Princess Bride

I once knew an old man who used to tell stories at night by the fire. Stories about paradise. This is how he described it: carpets of moss, pools of cool water, flowers and sweet berries everywhere, trees growing up to the sky, and the voices of their leaves speaking to the wind above you. Can you hear them?

keep six honest serving men (they taught me all I knew); Their names are What and Why and When and How and Where and Who." Rudyard Kipling, The Elephant's Child

Memories. They were all she had left. No more tangible than the pictures conjured up by books. But what would be left if she lost those memories too?

My library was dukedom large enough. William Shakespeare, The Tempest

It was difficult to find the right words, words which could also explain to her what she herself was feeling.

But the smile with which he watched the soldiers pass was the smile of a man who had hid an explosive device in his enemies' house and was enjoying mingling with them knowing they had no idea he had planted that bomb. Wicked old man.

It was good to have your books with you in strange places.

Losing people and missing them — that's what your life consists of.

She felt so stupid, and Elinor hated to feel stupid. It was almost worse than feeling sad.

The sun claimed the hill for its own, but Resa knew that night would not end for her. It would live in her heart from now on. The same night, for ever and ever.