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the brute strength of the man’s gentleness,
A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
soldierlike posture, a refrigerated voice, and even breath that smelled like “heil Hitler.”
bulletproof eyes leering from the shop window.
quickly adopting the appropriate cruelty that childhood seems to require.
wore a face with the shades pulled down.
A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria.
Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.
She was a girl with a mountain to climb.
Führered.
Burning words were torn from their sentences.
Arschgrobbler.
Pimples were gathered in peer groups on his face.
Her teeth elbowed each other for room in her mouth,
If they killed him tonight, at least he would die alive.
skinny as a whittled broom handle.
Sleepy air seemed to have followed her.
was wound tight enough to frighten from behind.
That’s me who answers. God never says anything. You think you’re the only one he never answers?
it’s true for the vast majority—that death waits for no man—and if he does, he doesn’t usually wait very long.
stood completely erect, feigning nonchalance, tensing himself against the tension.
Her voice was akin to a beating with a stick.
The doctor, by comparison, was like a balding rodent.
