In love - it sounded like a sickness without any cure, and wasn't that just how it sometimes felt?

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, wisdom and consolation against death. Who had said that? someone else who loved books.

She wanted to return to her dream. Perhaps it was still somewhere there behind her closed eyelids. Perhaps a little of its happiness still clung like gold dust to her lashes. Don't dreams in fairy tales sometimes leave a token behind?

He wants to be grown-up. How different dreams can be! Nature will soon grant your wish.

There are not so many mythical creatures from Inkheart.

Which of us has not felt that the character we are reading in the printed page is more real than the person standing beside us?