Every night, Liesel made her way down to the basement. She kept the book with her at all times. For hours, she wrote, attempting each night to complete ten pages of her life. There was so much to consider, so many things in danger of being left out. Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.
Raskolnikov once said: “When reason fails, the devil helps!
Somehow, though, and I’m sure you’ve met people like this, he was able to appear as merely part of the background, even if he was standing at the front of a line. He was always just there. Not noticeable. Not important or particularly valuable.
No one else could carry close to forty-five thousand people in such a short amount of time. Not in a million human years.
I’m sure you’ve met people like this, he had the ability to appear in the background, even if he was standing at the front of a queue.
Footsteps crease the grass behind us.
You’re my best friend, Ed.” “I know.” You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.
Quando dici una bugia, dopo devi essere coerente. Lo sanno tutti.
I still remember staying up all night to get it done, and I realize that’s always the best time to finish a book. The sun is yet to come up. It seems the whole world is asleep, and there you are, on your own, with the pages set before you.
Soon, there was nothing but scraps of words littered between her legs and all around her. Ther words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn’t be any of this. Without words, the Fuhrer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or wordly tricks to make us feel better.
Everything was so desperately noisy in the dark when he was alone. Each time he moved, there was the sound of a crease. He felt like a man in a paper suit.
Look at the colors, Papa said. It’s hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.
There were great big shrugs of breath of him...
You will be caked in your own body.
Ho lasciato le mie impronte sul mondo, per quanto piccole.
He remained shrouded in his uniform as the graying light arm-wrestled the sky.
She attempted to explain. “I – when... It was sitting in the snow, and – ” The spoft-spoken words fell off the side of the bed, emptying to the floor like powder.
On quite a few occasions Liesel forgot about her mother and any other problem of which she currently held ownership.
Avete mai notato che gli idioti hanno un sacco di amici?
The buildings appear to be glued together, mostly small houses and apartment blocks that looked nervous. There is murky snow spread out like carpet. There is concrete, empty hat-stand trees, and gray air.