What’s so unusual about that, princess? he asked quietly. Do you know how your story ends?
Was waren sie doch alle für Schauspieler! Alle, wie sie dastanden. Aber was spielten sie? Das, was die anderen sehen wollten? Das, was sie selbst gern sein wollten?
Vielleicht hat sich doch alles geändert. Vielleicht gibt es hinter der gedruckten Geschichte eine andere, viel grössere Geschichte, die sich ebenso wandelt, wie unsere Welt es tut? Und die Buchstaben...
Time is a horse that runs in the heart, a horse Without a rider on a road at night. The mind sits listening and hears it pass.
There could be few men whose love for a woman had been written on his face with a knife.
The fairy had flown over to the window and was peering curiously out at the alley. Forget it. Stay here, said Dustfinger. Please. Believe me, it's no place for you out there. She looked at him quizzic...
The darkness of the world made no distinctions; it entered its palaces as it did its huts.
The Magpie took off her glove and looked scornfully at him. Basta likes to use snakes to scare woman that reject his advances. It didn't work with Resa. How did it go exactly - didn't she finally put...
The Bluebeard’s terrible parting gift had been to make desire rhyme with death and fear.
That was what made fighting so easy - you could always choose death rather than captivity.
Sometimes we think we know people at first sight, he said. As though we’d met them a hundred times before, in another life, in another world. And then we realize that we know nothing. How did they loo...
Sometimes Fox thought all the men she knew had the dreams and wishes of nine-year-old boys—at least all the men she liked.
Sometimes Dustfinger thought Basta's constant fear of curses and sudden disaster probably arose from his terror of the darkness within himself, which made him assume that the rest of the world must be...
Please, she whispered as she opened the book, please get me out of here just for an hour or so, please take me far, far away
No, it wasn’t quite true that John had no conscience at all. Everyone had one. But there were many voices in his head that had an easier time reaching him: his ambition, his desire for fame and succes...
No prince had lived in those wretched hovels, no red-robed bishops, only farmers and laborers whose stories no one had written down, and now they were lost, buried under wild thyme and fast growing sp...
Molotov explained how that book, should one be foolish enough to open it, gave the power to read things and creatures out of any book in the world.
Memories, so sweet and bitter.. they had both nourished and devoured him for so many years. Until a time came when they began to fade, turning faint and blurred, only an ache to be quickly pushed away...
Mai prima di allora, però, aveva incontrato qualcuno che scriveva le frasi che ne riempivano le pagine. Persino di alcuni dei suoi libri preferiti non sapeva nemmeno il nome dell'autore, né tanto meno...
Loving someone merely meant pain. Nothing but pain.