Quotes About Loss

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. She kissed him long and soft, and when she pulled herself away, she touched his mouth with her fingers.

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

Liesel was sure her mother carried the memory of him, slung over her shoulder. She dropped him. She saw his feet and legs and body slap the platform. How could that woman walk? How could she move? That's the sort of thing I'll never know, or comprehend-what humans are capable of. Death-

Rudy Steiner slept. Mama and Papa slept. Frau Holtzapfel, Frau Diller. Tommy Müller. All sleeping. All dying.

In truth, I think he was afraid. Rudy Steiner was scared of the book thief's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them.

She remained on the steps, waiting for Papa, watching the stray ash and the corpse of collected books. Everything was sad. Orange and red embers looked like rejected candy, and most of the crowd had vanished. She'd seen Frau Diller leave (very satisfied) and Pfiffikus (white hair, a Nazi uniform, the same dilapidated shoes, and a triumphant whistle). Now there was nothing but cleaning up, and soon, no one would ever imagine it had happened. But you could smell it.

Rudy, please, wake up. God damn it, wake up, I love you. Come on, Rudy, come one, Jesse Owens, don't you know I love you, wake up, wake up, wake up...

In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He'd have loved it, all right. You see? Even death has a heart.

He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.

There was the chaos of goodbye.

This time, Mr. Steiner placed his hand on Rudy's head and explained, "I know, son —but you've got beautiful blond hair and big, safe blue eyes. You should be happy with that; is that clear?" But nothing was clear. Rudy understood nothing, and that night was the prelude of things to come. Two and a half years later, the Kaufmann Shoe Shop was reduced to broken glass, and all the shoes were flung aboard a truck in their boxes.

He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again, and would go to his grave without them.

Rudy Steiner was scared of the book thief's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them.

Certainly, war meant dying, but it always shifted the ground beneath a person's feet when it was someone who had once lived and breathed in close proximity.

Yes, I know it. In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He'd have loved it, all right. You see? Even death has a heart.

I saw him hip-deep in some icy water, chasing a book, and I saw a boy lying in bed, imagining how a kiss would taste from his glorious next-door neighbour. He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It's his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.

It kills me sometimes, how people die... -Told from the perspective of Death

I kills me sometimes, the way people die. -Death

Los primeros días se sentaban a su lado y hablaban con él. El día de su cumpleaños le dijo que si se despertaba abrí un enorme pastel esperándole en la cocina. No se despertó. No hubo pastel.

a beautiful, tear-stomped girl,shaking the dead.

The rolls of music that she herself had thrown into the trash with the pretext that they had rotted from dampness kept spinning and playing in her memory.

Se non fosse stato per quella sofferenza che non avrebbe avuto nulla di pudibondo per chi non fosse stata ammalata anche di pudibondia, e se non fosse stato per la perdita delle lettere, a Fernanda non sarebbe importata la pioggia, perché in fin dei conti tutta la vita era stata per lei come se stesse piovendo.

I fell to my knees, hugged Uncle Roman, and wept. July 1, 1941 The day after Uncle Roman's funeral, I went out to take Krasa to the pasture as usual, but a crowd of people stood in front of our church, hugging one another, laughing, and crying.

He felt the loss of something irreplacable, as if a thief had come out of the night, velvet-gloved and softly shod, and taken whatever it was away without Jury's ever having known, and slipped through the square