Quotes from Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.

Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.

Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?

***HERE IS A SMALL FACT*** You are going to die.

Still, they have one thing I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.

I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come." Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out.

The scribbled signature black, onto the blinding global white, onto the thick soupy red.

For two days I went about my business. I travelled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity.

When I picked him up originally, the boy's spirit was soft and cold, like ice-cream. He started melting in my arms. Then warming up completely. Healing.

I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair and surprise.

Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction.

A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.