0e35194
|
They (books) 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.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
54f9e7d
|
He pressed his fist to where his heart had once beaten, and I did the same. I'm sure I looked like a total idiot, but I think we all do when we're really happy. Except for Longspee. He just looked fabulous being happy.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
99d8ee1
|
Fear was like a beast that only grew fiercer when one gave in to it.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
77ebc51
|
She was beginning to miss him when he wasn't near.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
ed973e4
|
My voice had bayou gut them slipping out of their story like a bookmark forgotten by a reader between the pages
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
5e05611
|
So often it is words or pictures that first tell us what we long for.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
ed17f7b
|
I was the Count of Monte Cristo, who would one day return from the terrible prison island to take revenge on all those who had sent him there. I was Napoleon, banished to die a lonely death on Saint Helena. I was Harry, locked up under the Dursleys' staircase.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
f1e87b6
|
They forked up in the air for him, like trees branching in the night, and rained down sparks. They roared and whispered with their crackling voices, they had danced when he said the word. The flames here were both tame and mutinous, strange, silent beasts that sometimes bit the hand that fed them. Only occasionally, on cold nights when there was nothing but the flames to stave off his loneliness, did he think he heard them calling to him, b..
|
|
flames
|
Cornelia Funke |
e363f1a
|
A strong and bitter book-sickness floods one's soul. How ignominious to be strapped to this ponderous mass of paper, print and dead man's sentiment. Would it not be better, finer, braver to leave the rubbish where it lies and walk out into the world a free untrammelled illiterate Superman?
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
0a4e040
|
Worte taugen nichts. Ja, manchmal klangen sie wunderbar, aber sie liessen einen im Stich, sobald man sie wirklich brauchte. Nie fand man die richtigen, niemals, aber wo sollte man auch nach ihnen suchen? Das Herz ist stumm wie ein Fish, auch wenn die Zunge sich noch so viel Muehe gibt, ihm eine Stimme zu geben.
|
|
sprechen
worte
|
Cornelia Funke |
6f80974
|
Yes, everything will be all right, thanks to Elinor! She could have sung and danced (not that she was much of a dancer and she was sitting in a car).
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
298d16a
|
The Bluebeard's terrible parting gift had been to make desire rhyme with death and fear.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
dab379c
|
The fairy had flown over to the window and was peering curiously out at the alley. "Forget it. Stay here," said Dustfinger. "Please. Believe me, it's no place for you out there." She looked at him quizzically, then folded her wings and knelt on the windowsill. And there she stayed, as if she coudln't decide between the hot room and the strange freedom to be found outside."
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
5503cd8
|
night." "Sometimes, yes," Meggie had said. "But it only works for children." Which made Mo tweak her nose. Mo. Meggie had never called her father anything else. That night--when so much began and so many things changed forever--Meggie had one of her favorite books under her pillow, and since the rain wouldn't let her sleep she sat up, rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes, and took it out. Its pages rustled promisingly when she opened it. Meg..
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
a587298
|
Perhaps she was more like him than he'd thought: her home, too, had consisted of paper and printer's ink. She probably felt as lost as he did in the real world.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
887d38a
|
forget them, or the loss of them all will drive you mad. But his heart simply did not obey. Memories, so sweet and so bitter ... they had both nourished and devoured him for so many years. Until a time came when they began to fade, turning faint and blurred, only an ache to be quickly pushed away because it went to your heart. For what was the use of remembering all you had lost?
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
5be8a13
|
The Weaver wove herself from the thread of night, hair of moonlight, skin of stars. So old. Without beginning or end.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
10790b5
|
After all, that was what you wanted from books: great emotions you'd never felt yourself, pain you could leave behind by closing the book if it got too bad. Death and destruction felt deliciously real conjured up with the right words, and you could leave them behind between the pages as you pleased, at no cost or risk to yourself.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
d32bada
|
In love. [Her] face was burning. She didn't want [him] to say what she herself never put into words. In love - it sounded like a sickness without any cure, and wasn't that just how it sometimes felt?
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
c5cfdf8
|
She'd fallen in love with the wrong boy. But when did love ever bother about that?
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
8f48145
|
The stars shone down on her like flowers made of light, and their beauty hurt her weary heart.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
54ff2e3
|
Why such haste? For a foolish hope? Why did his heart always insist on believing that there was a light in all the darkness?
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
4962b68
|
Loving someone merely meant pain. Nothing but pain.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
eac05b5
|
Many of the snowflakes, he had told her, were tiny elves who kissed your face with icy lips before melting on your warm skin.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
cf63f54
|
And all was well.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
5e32576
|
Perhaps, after all, this world was made of dreams, and an old man had merely found the words for them.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
32d91e6
|
After all," she said, "many people here have little enough patience or understanding for their fellow human beings who are only superficially different than them--so how would it be for little people with blue skins who can fly?"
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
ee6eba1
|
My darling," she said at last, "are you sure you don't mind being a mouse for the rest of your life?" "I don't mind at all," I said. "It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you."
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
450e0a6
|
The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with weary feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say. J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
c47fd7b
|
It was far easier to believe in unhappiness than in happiness.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
3099800
|
Librarians. He'd never met one with a bad memory. He had a theory that words stuck to their minds like flies to flypaper.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
98cc78d
|
Her beauty took one's breath away, like a sudden pain.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
5dcda3b
|
The rain pummeled the old Dragon bones as though to provide the rhythm to the song of their mortality, but death was not what they had on their minds--or wasn't love sometimes called the small death?
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
779beb4
|
No. Nothing could make it easier. You lost what you loved. That was death, here as well as there.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
7be02a0
|
How could it be true that [he] was dead, and how would it feel to have him dead in her heart forever?
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
0720b3a
|
He still looked so sad. Not a sign of the laughter that once used to be as much a part of his face as his black eyes. The smile he gave her now was only a sad shadow of it.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
072dfb4
|
You're the one who says books have to be heavy because the whole world's inside them...
|
|
world
inkheart
heavy
|
Cornelia Funke |
42b2869
|
In our choices lie our fate
|
|
fiction
inspirational
|
Cornelia Funke |
b19348b
|
They're my children, my inky children, and I look after them well.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
f6fe3e1
|
You soon get tired of what's extraordinary, dragon rider. It's often the most ordinary things that bring great happiness.
|
|
happiness
dragon-rider
ordinary
extraordinary
|
Cornelia Funke |
3554444
|
Perhaps she was more like him than he'd thought: Her home, too, had consisted of paper and printer's ink. She probably felt as lost as he did in the real world.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
bd36cc0
|
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. Love, truth, beauty, wisdom and consolation against death.
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
b223d5f
|
It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards." Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland"
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |
acc6ece
|
I think we should sometimes read stories where everything's different from our world, don't you agree? There's nothing's like it for teaching us to wonder why trees are green and not red, and why we have five fingers rather than six." Of"
|
|
|
Cornelia Funke |