Cornelia Funke Quotes: 17

• Stories never really end...even if the books like to pretend they do. Stories always go on. They don't end on the last page, any more than they begin on the first page.

  Inkspell

• Books have to be heavy because the whole world's inside them.

  Inkheart

• So what? All writers are lunatics!

  Inkspell

• 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.

  The Inkheart Trilogy: Inkheart, Inkspell, Inkdeath

• 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?

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

  Inkheart

• 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.

  Inkspell

• 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.

  Inkheart

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

  Inkheart

• 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.

  Inkdeath

• 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.

  Inkheart

• 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.

  Inkheart

• You know, it's a funny thing about writers. Most people don't stop to think of books being written by people much like themselves. They think that writers are all dead long ago--they don't expect to meet them in the street or out shopping. They know their stories but not their names, and certainly not their faces. And most writers like it that way.

  Inkheart

• 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.

  Inkspell

• 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!

  Inkdeath

• It [the book] was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as a spider's web and enchantingly beautiful..

  Inkheart

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