"You sacrificed yourself for me."
"I love you."
On many counts, taking a boy like Rudy Steiner 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 decimated body. He’d have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit 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.
Being yourself is one of the hardest things because it’s scary. You always wonder whether you’ll be accepted for who you really are.I don’t think you ever succeed at trying to be anyone else but who you truly are.
And it wasn’t just that I hadn’t been there for her. It was that she’d been there for me. Whenever I’d been at my lowest ebb, she’d been there for me.
can we start a club for teenagers who were constantly complimented on their intelligence when they were younger and are now having trouble coping with the realization that they’re actually of average intellect at best