If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.
Markus ZusakShe said it out loud, the words distributed into a room that was full of cold air and books. Books everywhere! Each wall was armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, the red, the gray, the every-colored books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen. With wonder, she smiled. That such a room existed!
Markus ZusakThe point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important.
Markus Zusak