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 FunkeThe spoken word is nothing. It hardly lives longer than an insect! Only the written word is eternal. - Balbulus
Cornelia FunkeWe all know what fun it can be to get right into a book and live there for a while, but falling out of a story and suddenly finding yourself in this world doesn't seem to be much fun at all.
Cornelia Funke