Quotes About Memories

Those kids, they would've loved this place, they would've walked and skipped and danced here, all legs and sunny hair. They'd have cartwheeled the lawn, shouting, And don't go lookin' at our knickers, right?

También me temo que nada finaliza realmente cuando llega el fin. Los recuerdos permanecen mientras son capaces de blandir su espada y encontrar un punto blando en la mente para hacer un tajo y penetrar en ella.

Words are life, Liesel.

In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He'd have loved it, all right.

Whenever they had a break, to eat or drink, he would play the accordion, and it was this that Liesel remembered best. Each morning, while Papa pushed or dragged the paint cart, Liesel carried the instrument. Better that we leave the paint behind, Hans told her, than ever forget the music.

Well, promise me one thing, Liesel. If I die anytime soon, you make sure they bury me right.

A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT *** ***ABOUT RUDY STEINER*** He didn't deserve to die the way he did.

I've seen more eclipses than I care to remember

Anhelaba volver a la inconsciencia de entonces, a sentir tanto amor sin saberlo y a confundirlo con las risas y el pan untado con poco más que el aroma de la mermelada. Fue la mejor época de su vida. Aunque quedaría sembrada de bombas

Clay - who was the quiet one, or the smiler - only turned, one last time, and stared across the sunlit district of statues, crosses, and gravestones. They looked like runners-up trophies. Every last one.

Me temo que nada finaliza realmente cuando llega el fin. Los recuerdos permanecen mientras son capaces de blandir su espada y encontrar un punto blando en la mente para hacer un tajo y penetrar en ella.

Highlight: "Arschloch!" Papa yelped. "Liesel, give me some of that snow. A whole bucket!" For a few minutes, they all forgot. There was no more yelling or calling out, but they could not contain the small snatches of laughter. They were only humans, playing in the snow, in a house.

A small sample of some girl-written words That summer was a new beginning, a new end. When I look back, I remember my slippery hands of paint and the sound of Papa's feet on Munich Street, and I know that a small piece of the summer of 1942 belonged to only one man. Who else would do some paintwork for the price of half a cigarette? That was Papa, that was typical, and I loved him.

A veces, en el sótano, se levantaba con el regusto del acordeón en sus oídos y saboreaba el resquemor dulzón del champán en la lengua.

A few of them performed the beautiful childhood art of snickering.

Papa grinned and pointed at the girl. "Book, sandpaper, pencil," he ordered her, "and accordion!" once she was already gone. Soon, they were on Himmel Street, carrying the words, the music, the washing.

He [Rudy] placed the smiling teddy bear cautiously onto the pilot's shoulder. The tip of its ear touching his throat. the dying man breathed it in, He spoke. In English, he said 'Thank you.

Only when she got up to leave did she notice the three imitation-gold medals sitting next to her. She knocked on the Steiners' door and held them out to him. "You forgot these." "No, I didn't." He closed the door and Liesel took the medals home. She walked with them down to the basement and told Max about her friend Rudy Steiner.

She leaned down and looked at his lifeless face and Liesel kissed her best friend Rudy Steiner soft and true on his lips. He tasted dusty and sweet. He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection.

Keep playing Papa. Papa stopped. He dropped the accordion and his silver eyes continued to rust.

Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month away from his death. Of course I told him about you, Liesel said. She was saying goodbye and she didnt't even know it.

Papa. She Would not, and could not, look at Papa. Not yet. Not now.

charcoal. What was left of the

Anhelaba volver a la inconsciencia de entonces, a sentir tanto amor sin saberlo y a confundirlo con las risas.