markus-zusak

Jesus, Mary __he said it out loud, the words distributed into a room that was full of cold air and books. Books everywhere! Each wall was 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, the red, the gray, the every-colored books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen.With wonder, she smiled.That such a room existed!Even when she tried to wipe the smile away with her forearm, she realized instantly that it was a pointless exercise. She could feel the eyes of the woman traveling her body, and when she looked at her, they had rested on her face.There was more silence than she ever thought possible. It extended like an elastic, dying to break. The girl broke it.__an I?__he two words stood among acres and acres of vacant, wooden-floored land. The books were miles away.The woman nodded.Yes, you can

I guess that__ the beauty of books. When they finish they don__ really finish.

The question is, what colour will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.