A story so well wordsmithed, The Book Thief is delicious to read. Markus Zusak has crafted a masterpiece. I loved the personification of everything, even the narrator, Death. The words enter your soul and you feel the eternity of it.
Page 7: The abhorrence on his cheeks were growing thicker by the moment.
Page 9: The plane was still coughing. Smoke was leaking from both its lungs.
Page 10: I walked in, loosened his soul, and carried it gently away.
Page 12: The streets were ruptured veins. Blood streamed til it was dried on the road, and the bodies were stuck there, like driftwood after the flood.
Page 24: A final, soaking farewell was let go of, and they turned and left the cemetery, looking back several times.
Page 27: ... empty hat-stand trees ...
Page 42: A bathrobe answered the door.
Page 48: Insane or not, Rudy was always destined to be Liesel's best friend. A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
Page 65: The soft-spoken words fell off the side of the bed, emptying to the floor like powder.
Page 84: Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.
Page 109: I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is in their capacity to escalate.
Page 112: Burning words were torn from their sentences.
Page 250: Standing above him at all moments of awakeness was the hand of time, and it didn't hesitate to wring him out, it smiled and squeezed and let him live. What great malice there could be in allowing something to live.
Page 367: Her nerves licked her palms.
Page 392: Stars of David were plastered to their shirts, and misery was attached to them as if assigned. "Don't forget your misery..." In some cases, it grew on them like vines.
