He longed for the deep as she longed for the night sky and for white lilies floating on water -- although she still tried to convince herself that love alone could feed her soul.
He flung his arms around her neck, but only once he saw Silvertoungue's back was turned. He never knew with fathers. I'll save him, Meggie! he wispered in her ear. I'll bring Dustfinger back. This sto...
Dustfinger inspected his reddened fingers and felt the taut skin. ‘He might tell me how my story ends,’ he murmured. Meggie looked at him in astonishment. ‘You mean you don’t know?’ Dustfinger smiled....
Come Mo aveva detto un giorno, scrivere storie, in fin dei conti, ha un po' a che fare con la magia.
Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask for anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly. Love, truth, beauty,...
Believe me. Sometimes when life looks to be at its grimmest, there’s a light hidden at the heart of things. Clive Barker, Abarat
And he will have a great aunt called Elinor who tells him there's a world not like this one. A world with neither fairies nor glass men, but with animals who carry their young in a pouch in front of t...
All words are written in the same ink, ‘flower’ and ‘power’, say, are much the same, and though I might write ‘blood, blood, blood’ all over the page the paper would not be stained nor would I bleed....
Ah,yes!That...Silvertongue! Orpheus spoke the name in a disparaging tone, as if he couldn't believe that anyone really deserved it.Yes, that's what he's called. How do you know? There was no mistaking...
A strong and bitter book-sickness floods one’s soul. How ignominious to be strapped to this ponderous mass of paper, print and dead man’s sentiment. Would it not be better, finer, braver to leave the...
A story wearing another dress every time you hear it - what could be better? A story that grows and puts out flowers like a living thing! But look at the stories people press in books! They may last l...
A longing for books [is] nothing compared with what you [can] feel for human beings. The books [tell] you about that feeling. The books [speak] of love, and it [is] wonderful to listen to them, but th...
1 A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT The moon shone in the rocking horse’s eye, and in the mouse’s eye, too, when Tolly fetched it out from under his pillow to see. The clock went tick-tock, and in the stillness...
¿No te parece raro el grosor de un libro cuando lo lees varias veces? –le había preguntado Mo en su último cumpleaños, cuando contemplaban cada uno de sus viejos libros-. Parece como si cada vez algo...
No te preocupes por no poder hablar -solía decirle Dedo Polvoriento-. La gente no suele prestar atención.
(here her writing became so small Meggie could hardly make it out) The last sentence worried Meggie, but when she looked anxiously at her mother, Teresa smiled and reached for her hand. , she wrote on...
Если ты берёшь с собой книгу, - сказал Мо, когда положил в её сундук первую книжку, - происходит странная вещь: книга начинает собирать твои воспоминания. Стоит лишь открыть её потом, и ты сразу перен...
When the shadows of your life haunt you, and you bitterly miss the ones you once loved, then only sleep can grant oblivion
Devil
Claimed to be the man who wrote a certain book – what was its name again?Inkheart. Fenoglio rubbed his aching back. Its title is Inkheart because it's about a manwhose wicked heart is as black as ink,...