One opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.
Very good book. I enjoyed the story.
I‘m down with a knee injury which is HORRIBLE. It was hard to watch my kid run and I was sidelined, but I was still able to read. I finished “Before We Were Yours,” and also started the “Book Thief.” Thankful to spend the day reading and hoping a day or two of rest I can bounce back.
'I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn't already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and it's words so damning and brilliant.' - Pg 554
'In her final visions she saw her three children, her grand-children, her husband, and the long list of lives that merged with hers. Among them, lit like lanterns, were Hans and Rosa a Hubermann, her brother, and the boy whose hair remained the colour of lemons forever.' - Pg 547
'A LAST FACT
I should tell you that the book thief died only yesterday. Liesel Meminger lived to a very old age, far away from Molching and the demise of Himmel Street. She died in a suburb of Sydney... the sky was the best blue of afternoon. Like her Papa, her soul was sitting up.' - Pg 547
... His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones.
...He lay in my arms and rested. There was an itchy lung for a last cigarette, and an immense, magnetic pull towards the basement, for the girl who was his daughter and was writing a book down there that he hoped to read one day.
His soul whispered it as I carried him.' - Pgs 535-536
'For hours she wrote, attempting each night to complete ten pages of her life. There was so much to consider, so many things in danger of being left out. Just be patient she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.' - Pgs 530-531
'For the first hour she only watched the pencil and paper...
' Screibe,' she instructed herself. 'Write.'
After more than two hours, Liesel Meminger started writing, not knowing how she was ever going to get this right. How could she ever know that someone would pick her story up and carry it with him everywhere?' - Pgs 528-529
'THE LAST LETTER
Dear Mrs Hermann,
As you can see, I have been in your library again and I have ruined one of your books. I was just so angry and afraid and I wanted to kill the words. I have stolen from you and now I have wrecked your property. I'm sorry. To punish myself, I think I will stop coming here. Or is it punishment at all? I love this place and hate it, because it is full of words...' - Pg 526
' Hair the colour of lemons'... 'You told him about me?'
At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across & pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.
...He was her best friend.' - Pg 522
'... as soon as Liesel felt this thought, it filled her with a strange optimism - perhaps it wasn't the mayor's library at all, it was hers. Ilsa Hermann's.
She didn't know why it was so important, but she enjoyed the fact that the roomful of books belonged to the woman.' - Pg 466
'There was once a strange, small man...
-He would find himself a small, strange moustache.
...the Fuhrer decided that he would rule the world with words... His first plan of attack was to plant the words in as many areas of his homeland as possible.
He planted them day and night, and cultivated them. He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany...
It was a nation of farmed thoughts.' - Pg 451
'When everything was quiet, I went up to the corridor and the curtain in the living room was open just a crack... I could see outside. I watched, only for a few seconds.' He had not seen the outside world for twenty-two months.
There was no anger or reproach.
It was Papa who spoke.
'How did it look?'
Max lifted his head, with great sorrow, and great astonishment. 'There were stars,' he said. 'They burned my eyes.'
' - Pg 385
For Max Vandenburg, those were the two most pitiful words he could possibly say, rivalled only by I'm sorry. There was a constant urge to speak both expressions, spurred on by the affliction of guilt...
Living was living.
The price was guilt, and shame.' - Pg 216
'In the army, he didn't stick out at either end. He ran in the middle, climbed in the middle, and he could shoot straight enough so as not to affront his superiors. Nor did he excel enough to be one of the first chosen to run straight at me.
A SMALL BUT NOTEWORTHY NOTE
I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men.
They are not.
They're running at me.' - Pg 182
' You can say that in our house,' he said, looking gravely at Liesel's cheek.' But you never say it on the street, at school, at the BDM, never!' He stood in front of her and lifted her by the triceps. He shook her. 'Do you hear me?'
With her eyes tapped wide open, Liesel nodded her compliance.' - Pg 122
'I hate the Fuhrer,' she said. 'I hate him.'
And Hans Hubermann?
What did he do? What did he say?
Did he bend down and embrace his foster daughter as he wanted to? Did he tell her that he was sorry for what was happening to her, to her mother, for what had happened to her brother?
He clenched his eyes. Then opened them. He slapped Liesel Meminger squarely in the face.
'Don't ever say that!' His voice was quiet, but sharp.' - Pg 121
' Did the Fuhrer take her away?'
The question surprised them both, and it forced Papa to stand up... Another lie was growing in his mouth, but he found it impossible to let it out. He said,' I think he might have, yes.'
'I knew it.' The words were thrown at the steps and Liesel could feel the slush of anger, sitting hotly in her stomach.'
' - Pg 121
'... another onslaught of Heil Hitlering. You know, it actually makes me wonder if anyone ever lost an eye or injured a hand or wrist with all of that. You'd only need to be facing the wrong way at the wrong time, or stand marginally too close to another person.' - Pg 117
'He was performing now what is called a Schreierei - a consummate exhibition of passionate shouting - warning the crowd to be watchful, to be vigilant, to seek out and destroy the evil machinations plotting to infect the motherland with its deplorable ways... the Jews... the remainder of the Nazi recital swept by... Waterfall of words. A girl treading water.' - Pg 116
'Although something inside told her that this was a crime - after all, her three books were the most precious items she owned - she was compelled to see the thing lit. She couldn't help it. I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sandcastles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.' - Pg 115
'I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A colour will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.' - Pg 14
I don‘t know why I always used to shrink away from reading the book thief but I‘m glad i finally read it! It made me smile and cry but I really loved each and every bit of it! What are your thoughts on it? ☺️
What a beautiful, deeply moving book. The #audiobook is read very nicely. I would like to read the print version as well because it is the kind of book that one wishes to savor. I am amazed that the author was only 30 years old when he wrote this.