“... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.”

“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.”

“The day was gray, the color of Europe.”

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.”

“So many humans. So many colors.”

“You should know it yourself- a young man is still a boy, and a boy sometimes has the right to be stubborn.”

“It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.”