Quotes About Words

He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... It was a nation of farmed thoughts.

Él era el chalado que se había pintado de negro y había desafiado al mundo. Ella la ladrona de libros, sin palabras.

She was still clutching the book. She was holding desperately on to the words who had saved her life.

He odiado las palabras y las he amado, y espero haber estado a su altura..

Cuando empezó a escribir su historia, se preguntó por el momento exacto en que los libros y las palabras no sólo comenzaban a tener algún significado, sino que lo significaban todo.

He switched off the light, came back and sat in the chair. In the darkness, Liesel kept her eyes open. She was watching the words.

She soon says, "You're my best friend, Ed." "I know." You can kill a man with those words.

In the written words of the book thief herself, the journey continued like everything had happened.

Very quickly, very suddenly, words fell through my mind. They landed on the floor of my thoughts, an in there, down there, I started to pick the words up. They were excerpts of truth gathered from inside me. Even in the night, in bed, they woke me. They painted themselves onto the ceiling. They burned themselves onto the sheets of memory laid out in my mind. When I woke up the next day, I wrote the words down , on a torn-up piece of paper. And to me, the world changed color that morning.

I told her I loved the howling sound of her harmonica. That seemed to be the limit of my courage that night, and even those spoken words had to struggle their way out of my mouth. It's all very well for words to build bridges, but sometimes I think it's a matter of knowing when to do it. Knowing when the time's right.

Why do they have windows? Is it to let a glimpse of the world in? Or for us to see out? Our own place is small perhaps, but when your old man is eaten up by his own shadow, you realize maybe that in every house, something so savage and sad and brilliant is standing up, without the world even seeing it. Maybe that's what these pages of words are about. Bringing the world to the window.

When Liesel left that day, she said something with great uneasiness. In translation, two giant words were struggled with, carried on her shoulder and dropped as a bungling pair at Ilsa Hermann's feet. They fell off sideways as the girl veered with them and could no longer sustain their weight. Together, they sat on the floor, large and loud, and clumsy.

LA LADRONA DE LIBROS» ÚLTIMA LÍNEA «He odiado las palabras y las he amado, y espero haber estado a su altura.»

Words are life, Liesel.

los libros y las palabras no sólo comenzaron a tener algún significado, sino que lo significaban todo.

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.

I tell me: Let these words be footsteps, because I have a long way to travel. Let the words walk the dirty streets. Let them make their way across the crying grass. Let them stand and breathe and pant smoke in winter evenings. And when they're tired and have fallen down, let them buckle to their feet ad arc around me, watchful. I want these words to be actions. Give them flesh and bones, I say to me, and eyes of hunger and desire, so they can write and fight me through the night.

Words are so heavy, she thought, but as the night wore on, she was able to complete eleven pages

The dilemma, of course, is that such people save their most important words for after, when the surrounding humans are unlucky enough to find them.

She was home, among the mayor's books of every color and description, with their silver and gold lettering. She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.

We only sit there now. Audrey and me. And discomfort. Squeezed in, between us. She soon says, "You're my best friend, Ed." "I know." You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.

Where Hans Hubermann and Erik Vandenburg were ultimately united by music, Max and Liesel were held together by the quiet gathering of words.

Se aferraba con desesperación a las palabras que le habían salvado la vida.

Once, words had rendered Liesel useless, but now, when she sat on the floor, with the mayor's wife at her husband's desk, she felt an innate sense of power. It happened every time she deciphered a new word or pieced together a sentence.