“… it was raining on Himmel Street when the world ended for Liesel Meminger.The sky was dripping.Like a tap that a child has tried its hardest to turn off but hasn’t quite managed.”

“He left Himmel Street wearing his hangover and a suit.”

“From a Himmel Street window, he wrote, the stars set fire to my eyes.”

“You should give it to Max, Liesel. See if you can leave it on the bedside table, like all the other things." Liesel watched him as if he'd gone insane. "How, though?" Lightly, he tapped her skull with his knuckles. "Memorize it. Then write it down for him.”

“To exemplify that particular situation, we can look to a cool day in late June. Rudy, to put it mildly, was incensed. Who did Liesel Meminger think she was, telling him she had to take the washing and ironing alone today? Wasn’t he good enough to walk the streets with her?“Stop complaining, Saukerl,” she reprimanded him. “I just feel bad. You’re missing the game.”He looked over his shoulder.“Well, if you put it like that.” There was a Schmunzel. “You can stick your washing.”He ran off and wasted no time joining a team. When Liesel made it to the top of Himmel Street, she looked back just in time to see him standing in front of the nearest makeshift goals. He was waving.“Saukerl,” she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that’s as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get.”

“Now more than ever, 33 Himmel Street was a place of silence, and it did not go unnoticed that the Duden Dictionary was completely and utterly mistaken, especially with its related words. Silence was not quiet or calm, and it was not peace.”

“Whoever named Himmel Street certainly had a healthy sense of irony. Not that is was a living hell. It wasn't. But is sure as hell wasn't heaven, either.”