Max, Hans, and Rosa I cannot account for, but I know that Liesel Meminger was thinking that if the bombs ever landed on Himmel Street, not only did Max have less chance of survival than everyone else, but he would die completely alone.
A few of them performed the beautiful childhood art of snickering.
Papa grinned and pointed at the girl. “Book, sandpaper, pencil,” he ordered her, “and accordion!” once she was already gone. Soon, they were on Himmel Street, carrying the words, the music, the washing.
Where Hans Hubermann and Erik Vandenburg were ultimately united by music, Max and Liesel were held together by the quiet gathering of words.
Crossword?” he would ask.
Another noteworthy point is that the first was stolen from snow and the second from fire.
He was not well-educated or political, but if nothing else, he was a man who appreciated fairness. A Jew had once saved his life and he couldn’t forget that. He couldn’t join a party that antagonized people in such a way. Also, much like Alex Steiner, some of his most loyal customers were Jewish. Like many of the Jews believed, he didn’t think the hatred could last, and it was a conscious decision not to follow Hitler. On many levels, it was a disastrous one.
Because deep down you know that this small piece of changing fortune is a signal of things to come.
There’s ache in her arms and ache in her legs and heart. But on her face is the beauty of the morning.
Liesel was tempted to ask her the meaning, but it never eventuated.
When she made it down to Munich Street, the book thief swerved in and out of the umbrellaed men and women – a rain-cloaked girl who made her way without shame from one garbage can to another.
For a few moments, Liesel said nothing. It was one of those conversations that require some time to elapse between exchanges.
At that moment, Liesel was amazed by the width of the doorway. There was so much space. Why did people need so much space to get through the door? Had Rudy been there, he’d have called her an idiot – it was to get all their stuff inside.
There were people of every stature, but amongst them, the poor were the most easily recognised. The impoverished always try to keep moving, as if relocating might help. They ignore the reality that a new version of the same old problem will be waiting at the end of the trip – the relative you cringe to kiss.
Like the rest of the men in the unit, Hans would need to perfect the art of forgetting.
The last words of Max Vandenburg – You’ve done enough.
I urge you – don’t be afraid. I’m nothing if not fair.
We run straight through the laughter of the night.
Once around the.
Many jocular comments followed, as did another onslaught of Heil Hitlering. You know, it actually makes me wonder if anyone ever lost an eye or injured a hand or wrist with all of that. You’d only need to be facing the wrong way at the wrong time, or stand marginally too close to another person.