Neither Goyl nor men lived long enough to understand that yesterday was born of tomorrow, just as tomorrow was born of yesterday.
Cornelia FunkeWho 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 FunkeRead โ and be curious. And if somebody says to you: 'Things are this way. You can't change it' - don't believe a word.
Cornelia Funke