The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.

...to swear with a ferocity that can only be described as a talent.

I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.

That’s when I have to ask him. “Can you really talk like that? Being holy and all?”

“What? Because I’m a priest?” He finishes the dregs of his coffee. “Sure. God knows what’s important.

He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.

She was the book thief without the words.

Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.

The pages and the words are my world, spread out before your eyes and for your hand to touch. Vaguely, I can see you face looking down into me, as I look back. Do you see my eyes?