Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father's eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver.

Amplified by the still of night, the book opened -- a gust of wind.

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

The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.

... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.

It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.

So much good, so much evil. Just add water.