"A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension."

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The world was a terrible place, cruel, pitiless, dark as a bad dream. Not a good place to live. Only in books could you find pity, comfort, happiness - and love. Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly.

— Cornelia Funke