‘My heart is so tired,’ the girl had said. She was sitting in a chapel, writing in her diary. No, thought Liesel as she walked. It’s my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn’t feel...
I say His name in a futile attempt to understand. But it's not your job to understand. That's me who answers. God never says anything. Tou think you're the only one he never answers?
For a moment, I debated whether I should tell someone about the words I'd started writing down, but I couldn't. In a way, I felt ashamed, even though my writing was the one thing that whispered okayne...
A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR I am haunted by humans.
Personally, I think sex should be like math.At school.No one really cares if they're crap at math. They even proclaim it. They'll say to anyone, Yeah, I don't mind science and English, but I'm absolut...
There's a multitude of stories (...) that I allow to distract me as I work, just as the colours do. I pick them up in the unluckiest, unlikliest places and I make sure to remember them as I go about m...
A human doesn't have a heart like mine. The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is tha...
It was like she held a string and pulled on it just slightly to open me up. She got in, put a piece of herself inside me, and left again. In there, somewhere, I still feel it.
Sometimes the human race likes to crank things up a little. They increase the production of bodies and their escaping souls.
Todo el mundo sabe que una bola de nieve en la cara es el comienzo perfecto de una amistad duradera.
An eleven-year-old girl is many things, but she is not stupid.
Local loser. Cornerstone of mediocrity. Sexual midget. Pathetic cardplayer. And now weird-shit magnet on top of it.
Arschloch podría traducirse por imbécil, y no distingue entre el femenino y el masculino. Uno simplemente lo es.
Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.
Breathing then, for
There was an intense spurt of coughing. Almost an inspired spurt. And soon after – nothing.
How could something so seemingly insignificant give someone comfort? A ribbon in a gutter. A pinecone on the street. A button leaning casually against a classroom wall. A flat stone from the river. If...
She was still clutching the book. She was holding desperately on to the words who had saved her life.
Und seid versichert, diese Frau hatte tatsächlich ein Herz, und zwar ein größeres, als die meisten Leute vermutet hätten. Da war eine Menge drin, aufgestapelt, meterhoch auf verborgenen Regalen.
Make sure you live,' she said. 'As decent as you can. I know you'll make mistakes, but sometimes you're meant to, okay?
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