Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.

The book thief has struck for the first time – the beginning of an illustrious career.

Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces.

I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn't already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.

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

No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.

You ever hear a dog cry, Steve? You know, howling so loud it's almost unbearable?' He nodded. 'I reckon they howl like that because they're so hungry it hurts, and that's what I feel in me every day of my life. I'm so hungry to be somethin' - to be somebody. You hear me?' He did. 'I'm not lyin' down ever. Not for you. Not for anyone.' I ended it. 'I'm hungry, Steve.' Sometimes I think they're the best words I've ever said. 'I'm hungry.