Who are you?' Mo looked at the White Women. Then he looked at Dustfinger's still face. Guess.' The bird ruffled up its… — Cornelia Funke Copy Share Image
If you take a book with you on a journey," Mo had said when he put the first one in her box,… — 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
He flung his arms around her neck, but only once he saw Silvertoungue's back was turned. He never knew with fathers. "I'll… — 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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