He wants to be grown-up. How different dreams can be! Nature will soon grant your wish.
Cornelia FunkeAre you really going to catch us and take us back to Esther? We donโt belong to her, you know.โ Embarrassed, Victor stared at his shoes. โWell, children all have to belong to somebody,โ he muttered. โDo you belong to someone?โ โThatโs different.โ โBecause youโre a grown-up?
Cornelia FunkeThis world,' she said. 'Do you really like it?' What a question! Farid never asked himself such things. He was glad to be with Dustfinger again and didn't mind where that was. It's a cruel world, don't you think?' Meggie went on. 'Mo often told me I forget how cruel it is too easily.' With his burned fingers, Farid stroke her fair hair. It shone even in the dark. 'They're all cruel,' he said. 'The world I come from, the world you come from, and this one, too. Maybe the people don't see the cruelty in your world right away, it's better hidden, but it's there all the same.
Cornelia FunkeBecause 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