She gave 'The Dream Carrier' to Max as if words alone could nourish him.

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

But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?

That was when the world wasn't so big and I could see everywhere. It was when my father was a hero and not a human.

Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

As she watched all of this, Liesel was certain that these were the poorest souls alive. That's what she wrote about them . . . Some looked appealingly at those who had come to observe their humiliation, this prelude to their deaths. Others pleaded for someone, anyone to step forward and catch them in their arms. No one did.

She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.