Inkdeath Quotes & Sayings

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

Capitalism is using its money; we socialists throw it away. — Fidel Castro

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

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

...You're omniscient, right?"
"For the most part, yes."
"Then you have to tell me this 'cause I have to know. What's at the end of everything?"
He shrugged. "That's easy enough."
"Then tell me."
"The letter G. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I guess what I would tell women is to get their education first, before having kids. That way they can keep their options open down the road. I also think that it shouldn't necessarily be an issue just for women, that men should be part of the stay-home discussion too. — Tina Fey

And she accepted the bridge date from the tentacled horror, with the proviso that her schedule would be inflexible for the next several weeks. Up — Max Gladstone

I don't understand the word 'lose', I only understand the word 'learn' — Pitbull

I think we should sometimes read stories where everything's different from our world, don't you agree? There's nothing's like it for teaching us to wonder why trees are green and not red, and why we have five fingers rather than six.'
spoken by The Bluejay, aka Mo the Bookbinder, from 'Inkdeath — Cornelia Funke

Some books should be tasted,
Some devoured,
But only a few
Should be chewed and digested
Thoroughly — Cornelia Funke

When someone fears losing your affection, he or she will strive to keep it. Perhaps you have strived to keep someone's affection, too. Fear of loss is not love. — Gary Zukav

Believe in love's infinite journey, for it is your own, for you are love. Love is life — Rumi

Hope. Nothing is more intoxicating. — Cornelia Funke

Don't eat anything incapable of rotting. — Michael Pollan

By profession a biologist, [Thomas Henry Huxley] covered in fact the whole field of the exact sciences, and then bulged through its four fences. Absolutely nothing was uninteresting to him. His curiosity ranged from music to theology and from philosophy to history. He didn't simply know something about everything; he knew a great deal about everything. — H.L. Mencken

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

Killing is easy," said Mo, "Dying is harder... — Cornelia Funke

Blue as the evening sky, blue as cranesbill flowers, blue as the lips of drowned men and the heart of a blaze burning with too hot a flame. Yes, sometimes it was hot in this world, too. Hot and cold, light and dark, terrible and beautiful, it was everything all at once. It wasn't true that you felt nothing in the land of Death. You felt and heard and smelled and saw, but your heart remained strangely calm, as if it were resting before the dance began again.
Peace. Was that the word? — Cornelia Funke

Self-immolation's a nice gesture, but it doesn't usually achieve very much. — Tana French

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

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