“Last page of the book ends with a glass of wine.”
“She wasn’t created for everybody, her heart wasn’t made for everyone. Her love won’t be enough for just any man.”
“What good are flowers without water? What good are promises without actions?”
“I like two types of dust: pixie dust and dust from old, first edition books.”
“I don t tell my lover i write poetry He might expect a dedication”
“When you find out you can live without it, go along not thinking about it.”
“I hear your insults and plan to silence them with my victory.”
“I want to Live! Not Die, Not Hide, LIVE!”
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
“Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you ve finished just to stay near it.”
“This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.”
“Hungry man, reach for the book: it is a weapon.”
“You know, it s hard work to write a book. I can t tell you how many times I really get going on an idea, then my quill breaks. Or I spill ink all over my writing tunic.”
“Hair the color of lemons, Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. You told him about me? At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It s likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn t matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting. Years ago, when they d raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death. Of course I told him about you, Liesel said.”
“I d like to bite that lip.”
“We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what it is our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself. Sometimes we see the way out but wander further and deeper despite ourselves; the fear, the anger or the sadness preventing us returning. Sometimes we prefer to be lost and wandering, sometimes it s easier. Sometimes we find our own way out. But regardless, always, we are found.”
“Things change, friends leave. And life doesn t stop for anybody.”