Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.

A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.

… it was raining on Himmel Street when the world ended for Liesel Meminger. The sky was dripping. Like a tap that a child has tried its hardest to turn off but hasn’t quite managed.

Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.

Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.

Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.

I have to say that although it broke my heart, I was, and still am, glad I was there.

Please, trust me, I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.

I guess that’s the beauty of books. When they finish they don’t really finish.

Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.

If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.

It used to be about trying to do something. Now it's about trying to be someone.

There are as many paths to Truth as there are souls of men.

Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien. (The perfect is the enemy of the good.)

I wake up in the morning and I think about one brand. I don't have enough time to wake up twice and think about two.

You can't do psychological thrillers. There's no audience. I've heard this. I've heard this from studios.

The brash unbridled tongue, the lawless folly of fools, will end in pain. But the life of wise content is blest with quietness, escapes the storm and keeps its house secure.

Buy on the cannons and sell on the trumpets.

I'm not putting pressure on myself, all I know is I want to do music.

If there is something to steal, I steal it.

The world has not gone one step beyond idolatry yet.