"Grimly, she realized that clocks don't make a sound that even remotely resembles ticking, tocking. It was more the sound of a hammer, upside down, hacking methodically at the earth. It was the sound of a grave."
"How does it feel, anyway?"How does what feel?"When you take one of those books?"At that moment, she chose to keep still. If he wants an answer, he'd have to come back, and he did. "Well?"he asked, but again, it was the boy who replied, before Liesel could even open her mouth.It feels good, doesn't it? To steal something back."
"Can a person steal happiness? Or is just another internal, infernal human trick?"
"The point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important."
"They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thin, incessantly: 'Get it done, get it done.' So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more."
"Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day."