In years to come, he would be a giver of bread, not a stealer - proof again of the contradictory human being. So much good, so much evil. Just add water.
In the morning's early hours, quiet voices were loud.
If a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.
I think that’s as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get.
I s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.
I only know it would have been nice to be making love instead of attempting murder.
I am all bluster-I am not violent.I am not malicious-I am a result.
How does it feel, anyway?How does what feel?When you take one of those books?At that moment, she chose to keep still. If he wants an answer, he'd have to come back, and he did. Well? he asked, but aga...
He is straight ahead, straight out, straight and hard, and ready to fight.Hope you're better than your brother, someone calls.It hurts me. Wounds me.I am.But not as much as that.
As usual, I collected humans. I was tired. And the year wasn't even halfway over yet.
As the kids dance around the front yard under the night sky and the lights, I see something. Lua and Marie are holding hands.They look like they're so happy, just inside this moment, watching the kids...
When death tells a story yo really have to listen
—Schlaf gut,
Moments, Liesel stood. The corridor was huge. She examined the soldier in her palm. Instinct told her to run home immediately, but common sense did not allow it. Instead, she placed the ragged soldier...
Yes, I have seen a great many things in this world. I attend the greatest disasters and work for the greatest villains. But then there are other moments. There’s a multitude of stories (a mere handful...
When their bodies had finished scouring for gaps in the door, their souls rose up. Their fingernails had scratched at the wood and in some cases were nailed into it by the sheer force of desperation,...
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.
When it was over, they lay on their backs; there was a window on this, the top floor of the stairwell, and grubby light, and rising-falling chests. The air was heavy. Tons of it, heaping from their lu...
When Liesel left that day, she said something with great uneasiness. In translation, two giant words were struggled with, carried on her shoulder and dropped as a bungling pair at Ilsa Hermann’s feet....
We skip the moments like stones.