In love - it sounded like a sickness without any cure, and wasn't that just how it sometimes felt? Cornelia Funke More Quotes by Cornelia Funke More Quotes From Cornelia Funke The heart was a weak, changeable thing, bent on nothing but love, and there could be no more fatal mistake than to make it your master. Reason must be in charge. It comforted you for the heart's foolishness, it sang mocking songs about love, derided it as a whim of nature, transient as flowers. So why did she still keep following her heart? Cornelia Funke flower mistake song Children are caterpillars and adults are butterflies. No butterfly ever remembers what it felt like being a caterpillar. Cornelia Funke butterfly adults children Is there anything in the world better than words on the page? Magic signs, the voices of the dead, building blocks to make wonderful worlds better than this one, comforters, companions in loneliness. Keepers of secrets, speakers of the truth...all those glorious words. Cornelia Funke block voice loneliness Words are immortal - Elinor Cornelia Funke immortal Why would we ever want to go back when your world is so accommodating with your telephones and your guns and what's that sticky stuff called ...duct tape. Cornelia Funke gun want world Believe, believe, believe Cornelia Funke believe Hope. Nothing is more intoxicating. Cornelia Funke inkdeath 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 our-world teaching thinking 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 knives stupid hero 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 stars reflection night Perhaps there's another, much larger story behind the printed one, a story that changes just as our own world does. And the letters on the page tell us only as much as we'd see peering through a keyhole. Perhaps the story in the book is just the lid on a pan: It always stays the same, but underneath there's a whole world that goes on - developing and changing like our own world. Cornelia Funke stories doe book How fast the ears learned to tell what sounds meant, much faster than it took the eyes to decipher written words. Cornelia Funke eye ears sound Weren’t all books ultimately related? After all, the same letters filled them, just arranged in a different order. Which meant that, in a certain way, every book was contained in every other! Cornelia Funke different order book Writing stories is a kind of magic, too. Cornelia Funke magic stories writing Because fear kills everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart, your imagination. Cornelia Funke imagination mind heart Because by now Elinor had understood this, too: A longing for books was nothing compared with what you could feel for human beings. The books told you about that feeling. The books spoke of love, and it was wonderful to listen to them, but they were no substitute for love itself. They couldn't kiss her like Meggie, they couldn't hug her like Resa, they couldn't laugh like Mortimer. Poor books, poor Elinor. Cornelia Funke kissing laughing book My children were all made from paper and printer's ink. Cornelia Funke ink paper children Sometimes it's a good thing we don't remember things half as well as books do. Cornelia Funke half remember book There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife. Cornelia Funke knives faces men Who are you?' Mo looked at the White Women. Then he looked at Dustfinger's still face. Guess.' The bird ruffled up its golden feathers, and Mo saw that the mark on its breast was blood. You are Death.' Mo felt the word heavy on his tongue. Could any word be heavier? Cornelia Funke white bird blood
![](https://service.weibo.com/share/share.php?url=https://whatsmyquote.com/quote/because-fear-kills-everything-mo-had-once-told-her-your-mind-your-heart-your-imagination&appkey=&title=Cornelia Funke quote: Because fear kills everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart,...&pic=https://whatsmyquote.com/images/quote-f2019f79b98ced9a57f14faa48113b7a.jpg&ralateUid=&language=zh_cn){kind=link}
![](https://pinterest.com/pin/create/button/?url=https://whatsmyquote.com/quote/because-fear-kills-everything-mo-had-once-told-her-your-mind-your-heart-your-imagination&description=Because fear kills everything," Mo had once told her. "Your mind, your heart, your imagination.&media=https://whatsmyquote.com/images/quote-f2019f79b98ced9a57f14faa48113b7a.jpg){kind=link}
