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...
And why?’ He pauses. ‘I did it because you are the epitome of ordinariness, Ed. And if a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what the...
And they would all smile at the beauty of destruction.
A NICE THOUGHT One was a book thief.The other stole the sky.
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...
Charcoal. What was left of the
Al menos los humanos tienen el buen juicio de morir.
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 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 reason fails, the devil helps!
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....
What good are the words?
Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness.
Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.
They're strange, those wars.Full of blood and violence - but full of stories that are equally difficult to fanthom. It's true, people will mutter. I don't care if you don't belive me. It was the fox w...
The world is an ugly stew, she thought.It's so ugly I can't stand it.
The sun stirs the earth. Around and around, it stirs us like stew.
The question is what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?
Thank you. For Max Vandenburg, those were the two most pitiful words he could possibly say, rivaled only by I'm sorry. There was a constant urge to speak both expressions, spurred on by the affliction...