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

Cornelia Funke Quotes

Power. Intoxicating. Like a fine wine.

— 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

Reading

How fast the ears learned to tell what sounds meant, much faster than it took the eyes to decipher written words.

— Cornelia Funke

I’m perfectly happy to know the world at secondhand. It’s a lot safer.

— Cornelia Funke

Where did the love come from? What was it made of?

— Cornelia Funke

Nobody loves only once.

— Cornelia Funke

Reality is a fragile thing.

— Cornelia Funke

What a plague love is!

— Cornelia Funke

It’s a cruel world, don’t you think?

— Cornelia Funke

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

My children were all made from paper and printer’s ink...

— Cornelia Funke

Mo could paint pictures in the empty air with his voice alone.

— Cornelia Funke

The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.

— Cornelia Funke

Beauty and fear make uneasy companions.

— Cornelia Funke

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 away, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, on her forehead, on her nose, on her mouth once more. “You will come, won’t you? Promisse!” he whispered.

— Cornelia Funke

Dustfinger closed his eyes and listened. He was home again.

— Cornelia Funke

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

Farid had brought an invisible guest with him. Fear.

— Cornelia Funke

Believe, believe, believe.

— Cornelia Funke

There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife.

— Cornelia Funke

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