... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.

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.

All my friends seem to be smart arses. Don't ask me why. Like many things, it is what it is.

Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.

Oh, come on, Arthur." "I don't want to hear it, Andy." "Jesus Christ" "He doesn't want to hear it, either.

...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.

At first, she could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him?