"You bastards, she [Liesel] thought. You lovely bastards.
Don’t make me happy.
Please, don’t fill me up and let me think that something good can come of any of this.
Look at my bruises.
Look at this graze.
Do you see the graze inside me?
Do you see it growing before your very eyes, eroding me?
I don’t want to hope for anything anymore.
I don’t want to pray that Max is alive and safe. Or Alex Steiner.
Because the world does not deserve them."

"Writers tend to work early in the morning, or late at night, when brains are naturally able to focus deeply on one thought. In the middle of the day, distractions are unavoidable. I wonder if anything worthwhile has ever been written in the afternoon."

"Well, I must endure the presence of a few caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies."

"Just when the caterpillar
thought the world was over;
it became a butterfly."