Top 100 Cornelia Funke Quotes
#1. They are a brilliant device for shape-shifting as we can slip into the skin of authors from other times, other cultural backgrounds, brilliant minds who give us a new perspective on life and the world - something we all need from time to time. - Cornelia Funke
Jen Campbell
#3. So often it is words or pictures that first tell us what we long for.
Cornelia Funke
#4. Every soldier had to battle his weaker self. His weaker self had brought Donnersmarck to his knees, trembling. He had screamed it away, he had outrun it, he had drowned it in the blood of others. And he had always defeated it.
Cornelia Funke
#5. All books are in safe hands with me. They're my children, my inky children, and I look after them well. I keep the sunlight away from their pages, I dust and protect them from hungry hookworms and grubby human fingers.
Cornelia Funke
#6. She had only to open a door, nothing but a door between the words,just large enough for her and Farid to pass through ...
Cornelia Funke
#7. Fire and water," he said, "don't really mix. You could say they're incompatible. But when they do love each other, they love passionately.
Cornelia Funke
#8. A longing for books [is] nothing compared with what you [can] feel for human beings. The books [tell] you about that feeling. The books [speak] of love, and it [is] wonderful to listen to them, but they [are] no substitute for love itself.
Cornelia Funke
#9. They're my children, my inky children, and I look after them well.
Cornelia Funke
#10. No one saw firedrake as he made his escape along the canal.
Cornelia Funke
#11. Dustfinger still clearly remembered the feeling of being in love for the first time. How vulnerable his heart had suddenly been! Such a trembling, quivering thing, happy and miserably unhappy at once.
Cornelia Funke
#12. So it's happened, I kept thinking, you're in the middle of a story exactly as you've always wanted, and it's horrible. Fear tastes quite different when you're not just reading about it, Meggie, and playing hero wasn't half as much fun as I'd expected.
Cornelia Funke
#13. And the pain was back again, and time, and longing too.
Cornelia Funke
#15. I don't like to eat the same dish every day, so I read very different things.
Cornelia Funke
#17. No, it wasn't quite true that John had no conscience at all. Everyone had one. But there were many voices in his head that had an easier time reaching him: his ambition, his desire for fame and success - and for revenge.
Cornelia Funke
#18. Is there anything in the world better than words on the page? Magic signs, the voices of the dead, building blocks to make wonderful worlds better than this one, comforters, companions in loneliness. Keepers of secrets, speakers of the truth ... all those glorious words.
Cornelia Funke
#19. Sometimes, through the window of a car coming the other way, she caught a glimpse if a stranger's face, then it was gone, like a book you open then close at once.
Cornelia Funke
#20. The darkness of the world made no distinctions; it entered its palaces as it did its huts.
Cornelia Funke
#21. 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
#23. Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask for anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly. Love, truth, beauty, wisdom and consolation against death. Who had said that? someone else who loved books.
Cornelia Funke
#25. Resa longed for the kitchen, always full of the humming of the oversize fridge, for mo's workshop in the garden, and the armchair in the library where you could sit and visit strange worlds without getting lost in them
Cornelia Funke
#27. Sometimes a crow lands on the roof of the house. It sits there for hours and watches the girl. The woman doesn't chase the bird away.
Cornelia Funke
#28. How fast the ears learned to tell what sounds meant, much faster than it took the eyes to decipher written words.
Cornelia Funke
#29. Books are like flypaper, memories cling to the printed pages better than anything else.
Cornelia Funke
#30. 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
#31. Second, there are so many magical places in books that you can't go to, like Hogwarts and Middle Earth, so I wanted to set a story in a place where children can actually go.
Cornelia Funke
#33. He longed for the deep as she longed for the night sky and for white lilies floating on water
although she still tried to convince herself that love alone could feed her soul.
Cornelia Funke
#34. The tent in which she first met him had smelled of blood, of the death she did not understand, and still she had thought of it all as a game. She had promised him the world. His flesh in the flesh of his enemies. And much too late had she realized what he had sown in her. Love. Worst of all poisons.
Cornelia Funke
#35. How clear one's own desires become once they are made impossible.
Cornelia Funke
#36. And that everyone has to find their own path, even brothers.
Cornelia Funke
#37. 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
#38. For a moment Dustfinger felt as if he had never been away- as if he had simply had a bad dream, and the memory of it had left a stale taste on his tongue,a shadow on his heart,nothing more.
Cornelia Funke
#39. Who are you?' Mo looked at the White Women. Then he looked at Dustfinger's still face.
Guess.' The bird ruffled up its golden feathers, and Mo saw that the mark on its breast was blood.
You are Death.' Mo felt the word heavy on his tongue. Could any word be heavier?
Cornelia Funke
#40. Odd that your heart didn't simply stop when it hurt so much.
Cornelia Funke
#41. I always wanted to ride a dragon myself, so I decided to do this for a year in my imagination.
Cornelia Funke
#42. How ridiculous that water ran out of your eyes when your heart hurt. Tragic heroines in books tended to be amazingly beautiful. Not a word about swollen eyes or a red nose. "Crying always gives me a red nose," thought Elinor. "I expect that's why I'll never be in any book.
Cornelia Funke
#45. Only the powerful were hated, and that was what he was meant to be in this world.
Powerful.
Cornelia Funke
#46. 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
#48. Where did the love come from? What was it made of?
Cornelia Funke
#49. I have two Iceland horses, a very hairy dog called Looney, and a guinea pig.
Cornelia Funke
#50. Her beauty took one's breath away, like a sudden pain.
Cornelia Funke
#51. The Weaver wove herself from the thread of night, hair of moonlight, skin of stars. So old. Without beginning or end.
Cornelia Funke
#52. I love to read, I love to watch movies, and I love to be with my children.
Cornelia Funke
#53. It's a good idea to have your own books with you in a strange place
Cornelia Funke
#54. Down there the nights are bright and nobody believes in the Devil.
Cornelia Funke
#55. My grandmother told stories; she was very good at that.
Cornelia Funke
#56. It hadn't been easy to reach the city where Jacob had grown up. The borders in his world were more tightly guarded than the island of the Fairies.
Cornelia Funke
#57. She read and read and read, but she was stuffing herself with the letters on the page like an unhappy child stuffing itself with chocolate. They didn't taste bad, but she was still unhappy.
Cornelia Funke
#58. It had always been a myth that it was those who loved you who could see through you. It was those you feared who could see through you most clearly.
Cornelia Funke
#59. She pressed her hand against her chest. No heart. So where did the love she felt come from?
Cornelia Funke
#61. Courage was something John Reckless only ever wished he had. Courage was not a given; it was acquired, earned. You had to take the difficult paths, and John had always picked the easy ones.
Cornelia Funke
#63. Men liked to claim how different they were, yet they were all so alike.
Cornelia Funke
#64. Oh, I think every author is inspired by all of the books that she reads.
Cornelia Funke
#65. Why did death make life taste so much sweeter? Why could the heart love only what it could also lose?
Cornelia Funke
#67. Sometimes, when you're sad you don't know what to do, it helps to be angry. But then the tears come back again all the same, and you fall asleep with the salty taste of them on your lips.
Cornelia Funke
#68. My daughter, Anna, is almost 15, and my son, Ben, is almost 10.
Cornelia Funke
#69. Orpheus. Had the name he had taken ever suited him better? But he would be wilier than the singer whose name he had stolen. He would indeed. He would send another man into the realm of Death in the Fire-Dancer's place-and he'd make sure that he didn't come back.
Cornelia Funke
#70. Nothing was more cruel than a heart made of flesh and blood, because it knew what gives pain.
Cornelia Funke
#71. Sometimes it's a good thing we don't remember things half as well as books do.
Cornelia Funke
#73. My children were all made from paper and printer's ink ...
Cornelia Funke
#74. 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
#75. Every book should begin with attractive endpapers. Preferably in a dark colour: dark red or dark blue, depending on the binding. When you open the book it's like going to the theatre. First you see the curtain. Then it's pulled aside and the show begins.
Cornelia Funke
#76. Children are caterpillars and adults are butterflies. No butterfly ever remembers what it felt like being a caterpillar.
Cornelia Funke
#77. I hope you drop dead!" She screamed as Basta hauled her out of the room. "I hope you burn to death! I hope you suffocate in your own smoke!"
Basta laughed as he closed the door. "Just listen to this little wildcat!" He said. "I think I'll have to watch my step with you around!
Cornelia Funke
#78. Sometimes Dustfinger thought Basta's constant fear of curses and sudden disaster probably arose from his terror of the darkness within himself, which made him assume that the rest of the world must be exactly the same.
Cornelia Funke
#79. 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
#81. In love - it sounded like a sickness without any cure, and wasn't that just how it sometimes felt?
Cornelia Funke
#82. Her heart pounded as he kissed her. Or was it his heart? She hadn't been able to tell the difference ever since he'd freed her from that trap.
Cornelia Funke
#83. Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but don't come back, ok?
Cornelia Funke
#84. 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
#85. There are not so many mythical creatures from Inkheart.
Cornelia Funke
#86. What's the matter princess? Do you know the end of your story?
Cornelia Funke
#87. She'd been so certain she knew every crevice of his heart, but Jacob was like a country she'd only traveled through halfway.
Cornelia Funke
#88. 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
#89. Let's run away to Venice, and hide out in an old movie theater. We can dye our hair blonde, so no one will ever find us!
Cornelia Funke
#90. The Magpie took off her glove and looked scornfully at him. Basta likes to use snakes to scare woman that reject his advances. It didn't work with Resa. How did it go exactly - didn't she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?
Cornelia Funke
#91. The night belongs to beasts of prey, and always has. It's easy to forget that when you're indoors, protected by light and solid walls.
Cornelia Funke
#92. He closed the window, and the scents of the past again flooded the room, like a bunch of wilted flowers.
Cornelia Funke
#93. Maybe love bore fruit even more poisonous than fear.
Cornelia Funke
#95. He wants to be grown-up. How different dreams can be! Nature will soon grant your wish.
Cornelia Funke
#96. Yes, I do enjoy walking at night. The world's more to my liking then, not so loud, not so fast, not so crowded, and a good deal more mysterious.
Cornelia Funke
#98. It's the same in real life: Notorious murderers get off scot-free and live happily all their lives, while good people die - sometimes the very best people. That's the way of the world.
Cornelia Funke
#100. Thats beautiful! Sad and beautiful, murmured Meggie. Why were sad stories often so beautiful? It was different in real life.
Cornelia Funke
Famous Authors
Popular Topics
Scroll to Top
