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

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.

— Cornelia Funke

Words, words filled the night like the fragrance of invisible flowers.

— Cornelia Funke

You're the one who says books have to be heavy because the whole world's inside them...

— Cornelia Funke