Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her.
I've been a writer since I was 16. I didn't get published until I was 24. I know that sounds crazy.
You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.
I try hard and aim big. People can hate or love my books but they can never accuse me of not trying.
Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father's eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver.
It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true--big things are often just small things that are noticed.
Summer came. For the books thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews.
Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.
The beauty of my work is that my sets cost nothing. That's what I love about being a writer of novels.
...they watched the humans disappear. They watched them dissolve, like moving tablets in the humid air.
You cannot be afraid, Read the book. Smile at it. It's a great book-the greatest book you've ever read.
If you ever write a book, I can only give you one piece of advice. Don't let your parents get involved.
The point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important.
Winning wasn't natural for me. It had to be fought for, in the echoes and trodden footprints of my mind.
Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.
If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.
Oh, come on, Arthur." "I don't want to hear it, Andy." "Jesus Christ" "He doesn't want to hear it, either.
You should know it yourself- a young man is still a boy, and a boy sometimes has the right to be stubborn.
A DEFINITION NOT FOUND IN THE DICTIONARY Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children
But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?
I see Death as the part of us that knows all the time that we're going to die, reminding us to live properly.
I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I ever simply estimate it.
He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.
The question is what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?
Failure has been my best friend as a writer. It tests you, to see if you have what it takes to see it through.
But neither of us knows, because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it.
We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.
Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. (p.36)
Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.
If you can't imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train.
I'd been in love with her for years. I never left this suburban town. I didn't go to university. I went to Audrey.
There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it were empty.
That was when the world wasn't so big and I could see everywhere. It was when my father was a hero and not a human.
The first book I remember loving was 'Grug and the Big Red Apple.' The first film I saw in the cinema was 'Grease.'
It's a lot easier, she realized, to be on the verge of something than to actually be it. This would still take time.
Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.
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.
for some reason, dying men always ask the question they know the answer to. perhaps it's so they can die being right.
Make sure you live,' she said. 'As decent as you can. I know you'll make mistakes, but sometimes you're meant to, okay?
For 'The Book Thief,' I wanted only one outcome, and that was for the director to follow his own vision, just as I had.
At first, she could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him?
She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.
No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.
It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.
...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.
The best word shakers were the ones who understood the true power of words. They were the ones who could climb the highest.
Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?
You can do anything when it's not real. When it is real, nothing breaks your fall. Nothing gets between you and the ground.
I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.