The Book Thief

HERE IS A SMALL FACT You are going to die.

“Saukerl! Lick my ass! I’ll speak as loud as I want!”

Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.

And it would show me, once again, that one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.

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 the rain.

He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.

She was the book thief without the words.

“You Arschloch. Can you spell Arschloch for me?”

More than anything, it was the smell of friendship, and she could find it on herself, too.

“Well, promise me one thing, Liesel. If I die anytime soon, you make sure they bury me right.”

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.