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

...there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.

How'd it feel?" Rube asked himself. "I don't know exactly, but it made me want to howl.

If a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.

Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.

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

We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.