Quotes About Strength

unas lágrimas, que parecían de cristal, le resbalaban por la piel a pesar de no estar llorando. Se las habían arrancado a golpes.

Statues with beating hearts.

Make no mistake, this woman had a heart. She had a bigger one than people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving. Remember that she was the woman with the instrument strapped to her body in the long, moon-slit night. She was a Jew feeder without a question in the world on a man's first night in Molching. And she was an arm reacher, deep into a mattress, to deliver a sketchbook to a teenage girl.

Rosa was sitting with the accordion, praying. 'Make them come back alive,' she repeated. 'Please, Lord, please. All of them.' Even the wrinkles around her eyes were joining hands.

No, thought Liesel as she walked. It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.

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.

But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear?

Les meilleurs secoueurs de mots étaient ceux qui avaient compris le pouvoir des mots. Ceux qui pouvaient monter le plus haut. Parmi eux se trouvait une fillette toute menue. On la considérait comme la meilleure secoueuse de mots de sa région, car elle savait que sans les mots, on était réduit à l'impuissance.

For a moment, it appeared that her foster mother would comfort her or pat her on the shoulder. Good girl, Liesel. Good girl. Pat, pat, pat. She did no such thing. Instead, Rosa Hubermann stood up, selected a wooden spoon, and held it under Liesel's nose. It was a necessity as far as she was concerned.

Markus Zusak

Me maravilla lo que los humanos son capaces de hacer aunque estén llorando a lágrima viva, que sigan adelante, tambaleantes, tosiendo, rebuscando y hallando.

Este chico puede conmigo. Siempre. Es lo único malo que tiene. Me rompe el corazón. Me hace llorar.

Me maravilla lo que los humanos son capaces de hacer aunque estén llorado a lágrima viva, que sigan adelante, tambaleantes, tosiendo, rebuscando, hallando.

He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world. She was the book thief without the words.

Jesse Owens?" Mr. Steiner was the type of man who was very wooden. His voice was angular and true. His body was tall and heavy, like oak. His hair was like splinters. "What about him?

The brother shivers. The woman weeps. And the girl goes on reading, for that's why she's there, and it feels good to be something in the aftermath of the snows of Stalingrad.

Every night, Liesel made her way down to the basement. She kept the book with her at all times. For hours, she wrote, attempting each night to complete ten pages of her life. There was so much to consider, so many things in danger of being left out. Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.

Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness.

You will be caked in your own body.

to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness.

He is straight ahead, straight out, straight and hard, and ready to fight. Hope you're better than your brother, someone calls. It hurts me. Wounds me. I am. But not as much as that.

Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness

When a woman with an iron fist tells you to get out there and clean spit off the door, you do it. Especially when the iron's hot.

Por el momento, con la idea tenía suficiente. Era indestructible. Hacerla realidad... Bueno, eso ya era otro cantar.