I have loved words, I have hated them, and I hope I have used them well.
Keep going. You’re a mess and you’re happy.
The moon was undone now, free to move and rise and fall and drip on the boy’s face, making him nice and murky, like his thoughts.
She could have shot herself, scratched herself or indulged in other forms of self-mutilation, but she chose what she probably felt was the weakest option-to at least endure the discomfort of the weather.
In bed, she read with Papa, who could tell something was wrong. It was the first time in a month that he’d come in and sat with her, and she was comforted, if only slightly. Somehow, Hans Hubermann always knew what to say, when to stay, and when to leave her be. Perhaps Liesel was the one thing he was a true expert at.
Die Noten wurden in ihrem Atem geboren und starben auf ihren Lippen.
School, as you might imagine, was a terrific failure. Although.
When he stopped pacing, his shadow loomed behind him, watching. Someone was always watching.
I’m spoiling the ending, not only of the entire book, but of this particular piece of it. I have given you two events in advance, because I don’t have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It’s the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.
I guess it’s for life beyond these pages.
He’s telling Liesel’s story to prove to himself that humans can be beautiful and selfless and worthwhile.
Say a prayer at the stones of home.
They walked on in silence for a while, until Rudy said, “I just wish I was like Jesse Owens, Papa.” This time, Mr. Steiner placed his hand on Rudy’s head and explained, “I know, son – but you’ve got beautiful blond hair and big, safe blue eyes. You should be happy with that; is that clear?” But nothing was clear.
That basement was not a washroom. They were not sent there for a shower. For those people, life was still achievable.
As usual, I collected humans. I was tired. And the year wasn’t even halfway over yet.
How well do we really let ourselves know each other?
Her mouth jittered. Her cold arms were folded. Tears were frozen to the book thief’s face.
Sitting in the water, she imagined the smell of it, mapped out on her papa’s clothes. More than anything, it was the smell of friendship, and she could find it on herself, too. Liesel loved that smell. She would sniff her arm and smile as the water cooled around her.
She possessed the unique ability to aggravate almost anyone she ever met.
Behind me, a teddy bear was resting on the shoulder of a corpse. A lemon candle stood below the branches. The pilot’s soul was in my arms.