At first, all is black and white. Black on white. That's where I'm walking, through pages. These pages. Sometimes it gets so that I have one foot in the pages and the words, and the other in what they speak of.

An attribute of Rosa Hubermann, she was a good woman for a crisis.

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

The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.

What would you do if you were me? Tell me. Please tell me! But you're far from this. Your fingers turn the strangeness of these pages that somehow connect my life to yours. Your eyes are safe. The story is just another few hundred pages of your mind. For me, it's here. It's now. I have to go through with this, considering the cost at every turn. Nothing will be the same.

He prefers not to ruin things with any more questions. What it is is what it is.

...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.