The Book Thief

"What do you want to kiss me for? I'm filthy."
"So am I." 

“Saukeln,” she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneosly calling her a Saumensch. I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get.

A Small But Noteworthy Note: I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They're running at me.

  On many counts, taking a boy like Ruby was robbery - so much life, so much to live for - yet somehow, I'm certain he would have loved to see the frightening rubble and the swelling of the sky on the night he passed away. He'd have cried and turned and smiled if only he could have seen the book thief on her hands and knees, next to his lifeless body. He'd have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bombhit lips.Yes, I know it.In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know.He'd have loved it all right. You see? Even death has a heart.