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“Women were different, no doubt about it. Men broke so much more quickly. Grief didn't break women. Instead it wore them down, it hollowed them out very slowly.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“Hope. Nothing is more intoxicating.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“Killing is easy," said Mo, "Dying is harder...”
― Cornelia Funke

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

“Mortimer's face twisted when the Piper pressed his knife against his ribs. Oh yes, he's obviously made the wrong enemies in this story, thought Orpheus. And the wrong friends. But that was high-minded heroes for you. Stupid. ”
― Cornelia Funke

“Farid...She missed him so much that she felt ashamed of it.”
― Meggie Inkspell by Cornelia Funke

“She felt as if the grave stones 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 inkdeath

“All those feelings were set ablaze by your ink.”
― Laura Chouette

“But that was the trouble with this world--at heart, it was childish.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“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.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“The wrong boy. But what did the heart care about that?”
― Cornelia Funke

“—¿[Matar] es fácil?
«Sí —pensó Mo�. Sí, lo es... una vez que en tu pecho late un segundo corazón, frío y de aristas duras como la espada que portas. Unas gotas de odio y furia, unas semanas de miedo y de rabia desvalida bastan para que crezca dentro de ti. Te marca el compás cuando llega el momento de matar, salvaje y rápido. Y sólo después vuelves a sentir tu otro corazón, tan blando y cálido. Se estremece ante lo que has hecho al compás del otro. Duele y tiembla... Pero eso acontece después.»
El joven seguía mirándolo.
—Es muy fácil —repuso Moâ€�. Morir es más difícil.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“Resa longed for the kitchen, always full of the humming of the oversize fridge, for mo's workshop in the garden, and the armchair in the library where you could sit and visit strange worlds without getting lost in them”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

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

“But the marten laughed. And once again it sounded like an old woman’s laughter.

"All stories end with me, Bluejay," Death said. "You will find me everywhere.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“Was there any more wretched existence than the life of a writer who had run out of words?”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“Then she was gone, and Violante was already missing her as the door closed. 'So?' she thought. 'Is there any feeling you understand better? Losing people and missing them -- that's what your life consists of.”
― Cornelia Funke

“You're paying the price now, Elinor,' she often told herself these days. Paying the price for the happiness of those last months. Didn't books always say that, too: that there's always a price to pay for happiness? How could she ever have thought she would simply find it and be allowed to keep it?”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“Didn't she feel, deep down inside, that her longing was sapping her strength and her appetite, even her pleasure in books? Longing.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“...but she did nothing to make her face prettier, since it was her opinion that beautiful women might be desired but were never respected, certainly not feared.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“He simply didn't see the world as it really was, that was the explanation - neither the world nor the people he felt so sorry for. Because if you did see them for what they were, what on earth would make you want to fight and even die for them?”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath

“The hate he felt still tasted like love, but that didn't tame it.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath