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.

The Germans in basements were pitiable, surely, but at least they had a chance. That basement was not a washroom. They were not sent there for a shower. For those people, life was still achievable.

Is there cowardice with the acknowledgement of fear?

You can do all manner of underhanded nice things when you have a caustic reputation.

There was the gate next, which she(Liesel)clung to. A gang of tears trudged from her eyes as she held on and refused to go inside. People started to gather on the street, until Rosa Hubermann swore at them, after which they reversed back whence they came. ~A TRANSLATION OF ROSA HUBERMANN’S ANNOUNCEMENT~ ‘What are you arseholes looking at?

Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.

When I find research really rewarding is when one piece of information gives you an idea for a story. That's when it's great.