You don't shoot a dog when it is already dead.

How does it feel, anyway?" How does what feel?" When you take one of those books?" At that moment, she chose to keep still. If he wants an answer, he'd have to come back, and he did. "Well?" he asked, but again, it was the boy who replied, before Liesel could even open her mouth. It feels good, doesn't it? To steal something back.

Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.

Stealing it, in a sick kind of sense, was like earning it.

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

She leaned down and looked at his lifeless face and Leisel kissed her best friend, Rudy Steiner, soft and true on his lips. He tasted dusty and sweet. He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection. She kissed him long and soft, and when she pulled herself away, she touched his mouth with her fingers...She did not say goodbye. She was incapable, and after a few more minutes at his side, she was able to tear herself from the ground. It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on.

Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.