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

They'd been standing like that for thirty seconds of forever.

My voice is like a rumour. I'm not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.

Why me?' I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

As far as this categorization of books, the way I see it is there are really a hundred-odd categories of books plus one, and on the top shelf at home, I've got the books I love, my favorite books, and that's the type of book that I want to write.

Summer came. For the books thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews.

The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.