“In the written words of the book thief herself, the journey continued like everything had happened.”

“...the journey continued like everything had happened.”

“Summer came. For the books thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews. ”

“He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.She was the book thief without the words.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.”

“One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.”

“She slid a book from the shelf and sat with it on the floor.She tore a page from the book and ripped it in half. Then a chapter.Soon, there was nothing but scraps of words lttered between her legs and all around her. The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be ant of this.What good were the words?The book thief stood and waled carefully to the library door.”

“The book thief has struck for the first time – the beginning of an illustrious career.”