Quotes About Books

That aside, I read more books than I should, and I'm decidedly crap at sex and doing my taxes. Nice to meet you.

After a miscarriaged pause, the mayor's wife edged forward and picked up the book. She was battered and beaten up, and not from smiling this time. Liesel could see it on her face. Blood leaked from her nose and licked at her lips. Her eyes had blackened. Cuts had opened up and a series of wounds were rising to the surface of her skin. All from the words. From Liesel's words.

Markus Zusak

Although something inside told her that this was a crime — after all, her three books were the most precious items she owned — she was compelled to see the thing lit. She couldn't help it. I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to destroy.

Her mouth jittered. Her cold arms were folded. Tears were frozen to the book thief's face.

It'll be dark soon, Rudy.' He walked on. 'So what?' 'I'm going back.' Rudy stopped and watched her now as if she were betraying him. 'That's right, book thief. Leave me now. I bet if there was a lousy book at the end of this road, you'd keep walking. Wouldn't you?

Si domandò quando esattamente i libri e le parole avessero incominciato a significare non solamente qualcosa, ma tutto.

Kiedy zdecydowa?a si? opisa? swoj? histori?, rozwa?a?a dok?adnie, od kiedy ksi??ki i s?owa zacz??y znaczy? nie tylko to, co znaczy?y, lecz wszystko.

When she came to write her story, she would wonder exactly when the books and the words stated not just to mean something, but everything.

Sin embargo —seguramente por la atracción que ejercían los libros sobre ella— acabó entrando en la casa.

For now, Rudy and Liesel made their way onto Himmel Street in the rain. 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 the rain.

When she came to write her story, she would wonder exactly when the books and the words started not just to mean something, but everything.

All afternoon, I read. I fall asleep once as well, no disrespect to the writers.

They sat a few meters apart, speaking very rarely, and there was really only the noise of turning pages (…) Where Hans Hubermann and Erik Vandenburg were ultimately united by music, Max and Liesel were held together by the quiet gathering of words. Hi, Max. Hi, Liesel. They would sit and read.

Books everywhere! Each wall was armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see the paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, the red, the grey, the every-coloured books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen. With

Books everywhere! Each wall was armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see the paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, the red, the gray, the every-colored books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen. With wonder, she smiled. That such a room existed!

When she came to write her story, she would wonder exactly when the books and the words started to mean not just something, but everything

Ella era una ladrona de libros. Él asaltaba el cielo.

She remembered her books in the moments of worst sorrow, especially the ones that were made for her and the one that saved her life.

Elle, la voleuse de livres dépourvue de mots. Mais croyez-moi, les mots allaient venir et, lorsqu'ils arriveraient, Liesel les prendrait dans sa main, comme les nuages, et elle en exprimerait la substance, comme la pluie.

Max, she said. He turned and briefly closed his eyes as the girl continued. 'There was once a strange, small man,' she said. Her arms were loose but her hands were fists at her side. But there was a word shaker, too.

Diese Bilder waren die Welt, und es brodelte in ihr, während sie inmitten der schönen Bücher mit ihren manikürten Titeln saß. Es kochte in ihr, während sie die Seiten anschaute, die bis zum Erbrechen voll mit Absätzen und Worten waren. Ihr Mistkerle, dachte sie. Ihr geliebten Mistkerle.

My full name's Ed Kennedy. I'm nineteen. I'm an underage cab driver. I'm typical of many of the young men you see in this suburban outpost of the city- not a whole lot of prospects or possibility. That aside, I read more books than I should, and I'm decidedly crap at sex and doing my taxes.Nice to meet you.)

Jedna byla zlodÄ›jka knih. Ten druhý kradl oblohu.