Friday, August 5, 2011
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
With her three books standing upright on the table, as if in conversation, Liesel was silently mouthing the words as she read from one of them. pg113
Books everywhere! Each wall as armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see the paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, red, the grey, the every-coloured books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen.
With wonder she smiled.
That such a room existed! pg145
Steadily, the room shrank, till the book theif could touch the shelves within a few small steps. She ran the back of her hand along the first shelf, listening to the shuffle of her fingernails gliding across the spinal cord of each book. It sounded like an instrument, or the notes of running feet. She used both hands. She raced them. One shelf against the other. And she laughed. Her voice was sprawled out, high in her throat, and when she eventually stopped and stood in the middle of the room, she spent many minutes looking from the shelves to her fingers and back again. pg146