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

He killed himself for wanting to live.

It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.

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

One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.

I guess when someone tells you something they they usually guard, you feel privileged, not because you know something no-one else knows, but because you feel chosen. You feel like that person wants her life to intersect with yours. I think that's what felt best about it.

Grimly, she realized that clocks don't make a sound that even remotely resembles ticking, tocking. It was more the sound of a hammer, upside down, hacking methodically at the earth. It was the sound of a grave.