Emma Hope

“Hair the color of lemons,'" Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. "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 and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death.

Of course I told him about you," Liesel said.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“As always, one of her books was next to her.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward. ”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief