It was a style not of perfection, but warmth. Even mistakes had a good feeling about them

My arms are killing me. I didn't know words could be so heavy.

He left Himmel Street wearing his hangover and a suit.

Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment. 'There were stars,' He said. 'They burned my eyes.’ ...from a Himmel street window, he wrote, the stars set fire to my eyes.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking such things...' She let the sentence die its own death

After another ten minutes, the gates of thievery would open just a crack, and Liesel Meminger would widen them a little further and squeeze through. ***TWO QUESTIONS*** Would the gates shut behind her? Or would they have the goodwill to let her back out? As Liesel would discover, a good thief requires many things. Stealth. Nerve. Speed. More important than any of those things, however, was one final requirement. Luck. Actually. Forget the ten minutes. The gates open now.

And they would all smile at the beauty of destruction.