And there stood Basta with his foot already on another dead body, smiling. Why not? He had hit his target, and it was the target he had been aiming for all along: Dustfinger’s heart, his stupid heart. It broke in two as he held Farid in his arms, it simply broke in two, although he had taken such good care of it all these years.
Cornelia FunkeMots clés death crushing-blow dustfinger
From the tower battlements, Dustfinger looked down on a lake as black as night, where the reflection of the castle swam in a sea of stars. The wind passing over his unscarred face was cold from the snow of the surrounding mountains, and Dustfinger relished life as if he were tasting it for the first time. The longing it brought, and the desire. All the bitterness, all the sweetness, even if it was only for a while, never for more than a while, everything gained and lost, lost and found again.
Cornelia FunkeMots clés dustfinger inkdeath
What a plague love is!
Cornelia FunkeMots clés dustfinger inkspell
Reality is a fragile thing.
Cornelia FunkeMots clés dustfinger inkspell
The truth's not pretty of course. No one likes to look it in the face.
Cornelia FunkeMots clés inkheart dustfinger
It's the same in real life: Notorious murderers get off scot-free and live happily all their lives, while good people die - sometimes the very best people. That's the way of the world.
Cornelia FunkeMots clés dustfinger
Page 1 de 1.
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.