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Cornelia Funke

Cornelia Funke Biography

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“Can’t you imagine? Haven’t you told her about the place enough?” He tried the handle again, as if that could change anything. Meggie had covered the whole door with quotations. They looked to him now like magic spells written on the white paint in childish hand. Take me to another world! Go on! I know you can do it. My father has shown me how. Odd that your heart didn’t simply stop when it hurt so much.”

InspirationalFamilyFantasyTouching
Author:Cornelia Funke
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“Der Name klang immer noch so vertraut. Vermutlich hatte sie ihn öfter ausgesprochen, als den ihres Sohnes. Warum schlug ihr albernes Herz schneller? Hatte es schon vergessen, wie viel Schmerz diese Besucherin ihm bereitet hatte? Ihr Vater hatte recht. Das Herz war ein schwaches, wandelbares Ding, auf nichts als Liebe aus und nichts war verhängnisvoller, als es zu seinem Meister zu machen. Der Verstand musste der Meister sein. Er tröstete über Narrenheiten des Herzens hinweg, fand Spottlieder für die Liebe, verhöhnte sie als eine Laune der Natur, vergänglich wie Blüten. Warum nur folgte sie dennoch immer wieder ihrem Herzen?”

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“She began spending days on end in bed. She ate too little and then too much. Her stomach hurt, her head ached, her heart fluttered inside her. She was cross and absentminded and began crying like a crocodile over the most sentimental stories--because of course she went on reading. What else was there for her to do? 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.”

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Book:Inkdeath
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“For him that stealeth, or borroweth and returneth not, this book from its owner, let it change into a serpent in his hand and rend him. Let him be struck with palsy, and all his members blasted. Let him languish in pain, crying aloud for mercy, and let there be no surcease to this agony till he sing in dissolution. Let bookworms gnaw his entrails in token of the worm that dieth not, and when at last he goeth to his last punishment, let the flames of hell consume him for ever. Curse on book thieves, from the monastery of San Pedro, Barcelona, Spain”

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“Elinor had read countless stories in which the main characters fell sick at some point because they were so unhappy. She had always thought that a very romantic idea, but she’d dismissed it as a pure invention of the world of books. All those wilting heroes and heroines who suddenly gave up the ghost just because of unrequited love or longing for something they’d lost! Elinor had always enjoyed their sufferings—as a reader will. After all, that was what you wanted from books: great emotions you’d never felt yourself, pain you could leave behind by closing the book if it got too bad. Death and destruction felt deliciously real conjured up with the right words, and you could leave them behind between the pages as you pleased, at no cost or risk to yourself.”

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Book:Inkdeath
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“Die meisten Menschen, die zum ersten Mal aus den engen Gassen auf den Markusplatz traten, sahen sich zuerst so verblüfft um, als hätten sie einen märchenhaften Ort wie diesen höchstens in ihren Träumen erwartet. Manche blieben wie verzaubert stehen, als wollten sie niemals weitergehen. Andere bekamen ihre Kindergesichter zurück, während sie hinaufstarrten zu dem funkelnden Glas und dem Löwen zwischen den Sternen. Nur ganz wenige taten so, als berühre sie dies Übermaß an Schönheit nicht, und schlenderten weiter mit steinernen Gesichtern, stolz, dass nichts auf der Welt sie mehr zum Staunen brachte. Victor war nie sicher, ob er diese Leute bedauern oder fürchten sollte.”

WonderChildhood
Author:Cornelia Funke
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