“Life was more difficult in Inkheart, yet it seemed to Meggie that with every new day Fenoglio's story was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as a spider's web and enchantingly beautiful..”

“with every new day, Fenoglio's story was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as spider's webs and enchantingly beautiful”

“It [the book] was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as a spider's web and enchantingly beautiful..”

“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, filled with darkness and evil. I still like the title.”

“You are crazy!" whispered Meggie. "You're a total lunatic!"But her opinion did not impress Fenoglio in the slightest. "So what? All writers are lunatics!”

“Thats beautiful! Sad and beautiful," murmured Meggie. Why were sad stories often so beautiful? It was different in real life.”

“Yes, Mo would come. Meggie could think of nothing else as Fenoglio led her away with him, his arm around her as if he could really protect her from Capricorn and Basta and all the others. But he couldn't. Would Mo be able to protect her? Of course not. He mustn't come, she thought. Please. Perhaps he won't be able to find his way in again! He mustn't come. Yet there was nothing she wanted more, nothing in the whole wide world.”