The point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important.

She closes the door completely, and I crouch there. I allow myself to fall forward and rest my head on the door frame. My breath bleeds. My heartbeat drowns my ears.

When I find research really rewarding is when one piece of information gives you an idea for a story. That's when it's great.

He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world. She was the book thief without the words. Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.

He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.

You ever hear a dog cry, Steve? You know, howling so loud it's almost unbearable?' He nodded. 'I reckon they howl like that because they're so hungry it hurts, and that's what I feel in me every day of my life. I'm so hungry to be somethin' - to be somebody. You hear me?' He did. 'I'm not lyin' down ever. Not for you. Not for anyone.' I ended it. 'I'm hungry, Steve.' Sometimes I think they're the best words I've ever said. 'I'm hungry.

The human child – so much cannier at times than the stupefyingly ponderous adult.