Cornelia Funke

«.......only the powerful were hated, and that was what he was meant to be in this world.»

Cornelia Funke


«This book taught me, once and for all, how easily you can escape this world with the help of words! You can find friends between the pages of a book, wonderful friends.»

Cornelia Funke


«Io non credo fondamentalmente a nessuno, ormai dovresti saperlo. Siamo tutti bugiardi quando serve.»

Cornelia Funke


«-You forgot something important!»

Cornelia Funke


«As Mo had said: writing stories is a kind of magic, too.»

Cornelia Funke


«Words,words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers.»

Cornelia Funke


«Look at your daughter,' she whispered. 'As brave as...as.." She wanted to compare Meggie to a hero in some story but all the heroes she could think of were men, and anyway none of them seemed to her brave enough for comparison to the girl standing there, perfectly straight, scrutinizing Capricorn's Black Jackets, with her chin jutting out defiantly.»

Cornelia Funke


«Children, they're the same everywhere. Greedy little creatures but the best listeners in the world -any world. The very best of all.»

Cornelia Funke


«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.»

Cornelia Funke


«The only way ghosts can hurt you is through your own fear»

Cornelia Funke


«Weren’t all books ultimately related? After all, the same letters filled them, just arranged in a different order. Which meant that, in a certain way, every book was contained in every other!»

Cornelia Funke


«Nothing is more terrifying than fearlessness.»

Cornelia Funke


«Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you secruity and friendship and didn't ask for anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly.»

Cornelia Funke


«Because fear kills everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart, your imagination.»

Cornelia Funke


«Which of us has not felt that the character we are reading in the printed page is more real than the person standing beside us?»

Cornelia Funke


«The world was a terrible place, cruel, pitiless, dark as a bad dream. Not a good place to live. Only in books could you find pity, comfort, happiness - and love. Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly.»

Cornelia Funke


«He saw so many emotions mingled on her face: anger disappointment, fear – and defiance. Like her daughter, thought Fenoglio again. So uncompromising, so strong. Women were different, no doubt about it. Men broke so much more quickly. Grief didn’t break women. Instead it wore them down, it hollowed them out, very slowly.»

Cornelia Funke


«So what? All writers are lunatics!»

Cornelia Funke


«Meggie thought this first whisper sounded a little different from one book to another, depending on weather or not she already knew the story it was going to tell her.»

Cornelia Funke


«She wanted to return to her dream. Perhaps it was still somewhere there behind her closed eyelids. Perhaps a little of its happiness still clung like gold dust to her lashes. Don't dreams in fairy tales sometimes leave a token behind?»

Cornelia Funke


«There was another reason [she] took her books whenever they went away. They were her home when she was somewhere strange. They were familiar voices, friends that never quarreled with her, clever, powerful friends -- daring and knowledgeable, tried and tested adventurers who had traveled far and wide. Her books cheered her up when she was sad and kept her from being bored.»

Cornelia Funke


«You'd like him back, too, wouldn't you?"»

Cornelia Funke


«Women were different, no doubt about it. Men broke so much more quickly. Grief didn't break women. Instead it wore them down, it hollowed them out very slowly.»

Cornelia Funke


«It's a good idea to have your own books with you in a strange place»

Cornelia Funke


«And there stood Basta with his foot already on another dead body, smiling. Why not? He had hit his target, and it was the target he had been aiming for all along: Dustfinger’s heart, his stupid heart. It broke in two as he held Farid in his arms, it simply broke in two, although he had taken such good care of it all these years.»

Cornelia Funke


«Read – and be curious. And if somebody says to you: 'Things are this way. You can't change it' - don't believe a word.»

Cornelia Funke


«Faccio volentieri delle promesse, specialmente quelle che non posso mantenere.»

Cornelia Funke


«Killing is easy," said Mo, "Dying is harder...»

Cornelia Funke