Night was fading over the fields as if the rain had washed the darkness out of the hem of its garment.

— Cornelia Funke

Nothing is more terrifying than fearlessness.

— Cornelia Funke

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

— 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

Secrets... nothing eats away at love faster.

— Cornelia Funke

She felt as if the gravestones were whispering those names to her as she walked past... Those stones that bore no names seemed like closed mouths, sad mouths that forgotten how to speak. But perhaps the dead didn't mind what their names had once been?

— Cornelia Funke

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

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 dream in fairy tales sometimes leave a token behind?

— Cornelia Funke

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, Maggie, and playing hero wasn't half as much fun as I'd expected.

— Cornelia Funke

So Mo began filling the silence with words. He lured them out of the pages as if they had only been waiting for his voice, words long and short, words sharp and soft, cooing, purring words. They danced through the room, painting stained-glass pictures, tickling the skin. Even when Maggie nodded off she could still hear them, although Mo had closed the book long ago. Words that explained the world to her, its dark side and its light side, words that built a wall to keep out bad dreams. And not a single bad dream came over that wall for the rest of the night.

— Cornelia Funke