in the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears.

But neither of us knows, because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it.

...and the night is so deep and dark that I wonder if the sun will ever come up.

It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.

The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs.

Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.

One day, Liesel.' he said, 'you'll be dying to kiss me.