Author of quotes: Cornelia Funke

On a cold, dark, moonlit night in 1424, the great alchemist Petrosius Belenius created the greatest miracle the world had ever seen, the most powerful and dangerous being. He created him from a creature whose name no one knows, from fire and water, from gold and iron, from hard stone and gentle dew from violet leaves. Then, by the power of lightning, he awakened it to life and gave his creation the name Wren.

Dragons get terribly tired from flying. If they are unable to sleep after this, they become sad. So sad that they are impossible to deal with. And if it starts to rain, then this starts...

What people fear, they destroy.

And every day someone fell overboard...

Sometimes we need to see from the outside to understand how we feel.

This often happens - it is not easy to find something, but it is even more difficult not to be afraid of what is found.

The girl is too innocent for these places, and her mother is weak, she will not be able to protect her daughter. She is the kind of woman who looks for strength in men, and not in her own soul.

Such cruelty... She's seen too much cruelty here. Sometimes it seemed to her that all this stuck to her heart like mold.

Man is mortal until he has a son.

- Do you feel fear? - asked the father. - Never forget about him. You should feel this fear in a moment of weakness - when you want to forget who you are and that you serve the fatherland. When you have a choice - life or honor. If you betray your country, your name, your heritage, it's like taking a step into the abyss. The abyss is not visible, but it is real. Never forget about it, my son ...

- Tomorrow! I'll give you something tomorrow. It's going to be a surprise.
- Surprise? Ophelia peered at her mother's pale face.
- Yes.
- Is it a book? Ophelia asked.
- Book? Mom laughed softly. - Not a book, no. Much better!
Ophelia did not remind her that for her nothing could be better than a book. Mom won't understand. She does not seek refuge in books, is not transferred to another, magical world. She sees only this world, and even then not always, Ophelia thought. Mom is tightly attached to the ground, which is what she's so sad about. Books could tell her a lot about the world, about distant countries, about animals and plants, about the stars! Book pages can become open windows and doors, on paper wings you can fly away. Maybe my mother just forgot how to fly. Or maybe she never did.

The sea has always aroused in her a craving for some unknown purpose.

- Try! thought Mo. - Look into my heart and tell me what you saw there, because I don't already know.

All is the game play, coined Fenolio, kept repeating to himself Mo, passing along the silver columns. - If only she hadn't seemed so real!..