The night breathed through the apartment like a dark animal. The ticking of a clock. The groan of a floorboard as he… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
So Mo began filling the silence with words. He lured them out of the pages as if they had only been waiting… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
This world,' she said. 'Do you really like it?' What a question! Farid never asked himself such things. He was glad to… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
Every book should begin with attractive endpapers. Preferably in a dark colour: dark red or dark blue, depending on the binding. When… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
Blue as the evening sky, blue as cranesbill flowers, blue as the lips of drowned men and the heart of a blaze… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
“I want to see thirst In the syllables, Touch fire In the sound; Feel through the dark For the scream. Pablo Neruda,… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
My wife loves written words ... you know, words that stick to parchment and paper like dead flies, and it seems my… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
The world was a terrible place, cruel, pitiless, dark as a bad dream. Not a good place to live. Only in books… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
There was another reason [she] took her books whenever they went away. They were her home when she was somewhere strange. They were familiar… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
“A story is a labyrinth, it looks as if there were several ways to go, but only one is right, and there's a nasty… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
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… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
“For a moment Dustfinger felt as if he had never been away- as if he had simply had a bad dream, and the memory… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
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 Copy Share Image
“And he will have a great aunt called Elinor who tells him there's a world not like this one. A world with neither fairies… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
“Yes, Mo would come. Meggie could think of nothing else as Fenoglio led her away with him, his arm around her as if he… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
When it came to hiding, even Gwin had nothing to teach Dustfinger. A strange sense of curiosity had always driven him to explore the… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
Because fear kills everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart, your imagination. — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
Perhaps there's another, much larger story behind the printed one, a story that changes just as our own world does. And the letters on… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
I remember the feeling. Whenever my father got so absorbed in a book that we might have been in visible I felt like taking… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
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