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“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.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“The truth's not pretty of course. No one likes to look it in the face.”
― Cornelia Funke

“Reality is a fragile thing.”
― 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, Inkheart

“What a plague love is!”
― Cornelia Funke

“From the tower battlements, Dustfinger looked down on a lake as black as night, where the reflection of the castle swam in a sea of stars. The wind passing over his unscarred face was cold from the snow of the surrounding mountains, and Dustfinger relished life as if he were tasting it for the first time. The longing it brought, and the desire. All the bitterness, all the sweetness, even if it was only for a while, never for more than a while, everything gained and lost, lost and found again.”
― Cornelia Funke

“He bent over Farid and wiped some soot from his cold forehead. "Roxanne knows it," he said. "She'll tell it to you. Just go to her and... and tell her I've had to go away. Tell her I'm going to find out if the story is true."

He spoke with a strange kind of hesitation, as if it were infinitely difficult to find the right words. "And remind her of my promiseâ€� that I'll always find a way back to her, wherever I am. Will you tell her that?”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“Farid callaba. Sus oídos amaban la voz de Lengua de Brujo. Era la voz que lo había sacado de su otra vida mísera, pero amaba más a Dedo Polvoriento, sin saber por qué.”
― Cornelia Funke

“They forked up in the air for him, like trees branching in the night, and rained down sparks. They roared and whispered with their crackling voices, they had danced when he said the word. The flames here were both tame and mutinous, strange, silent beasts that sometimes bit the hand that fed them. Only occasionally, on cold nights when there was nothing but the flames to stave off his loneliness, did he think he heard them calling to him, but they whispered words he didn't understand.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

“the sly smile hides the broken heart”
― Cornelia Funke

“You'd like him back, too, wouldn't you?"
It was difficult for her to turn her eyes away from Farid's face. "He'll never come back," she whispered, and look at Dustfinger. She didn't have the strength to speak any louder. All her strength was gone, as if Farid had taken it away with him. He had taken everything away from him.”
― Cornelia Funke

“Las malas historias no despiertan a la vida. No hay ningún Dedo Polvoriento en ellas.”
― Cornelia Funke

“The wrong words. They were true a hundred times over, yet they sounded like a lie. Hadn’t he always known it? Words were useless. At times they might sound wonderful, but they let you down the moment you really needed them. You could never find the right words, never, and where would you look for them? The heart is as silent as a fish, however much the tongue tries to give it a voice.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell, Volume 2