Liesel And Papa Quotes & Sayings

Liesel and Papa made their way through the book, this man was traveling to Amsterdam on business and the snow was shivering outside. The girl loved that- the shivering snow. "That's exactly what it does when it comes down," she told Hans Hubermann. — Markus Zusak

Goodbye, Papa, you saved me. You taught me to read. No one can play like you. I'll never drink champagne. No one can play like you.
-Liesel — Markus Zusak

At this point, I couldn't help it. I walked around to see her better, and from the moment I witnessed her face again, I could tell that this was who she loved the most. Her expression stroked the man on his face. It followed one of the lines down his cheek. He had sat in the washroom with her and taught her how to roll a cigarette. He gave bread to a dead man on Munich Street and told the girl to keep reading in the bomb shelter. Perhaps if he didn't, she might not have ended up writing in the basement. Papa - the accordionist - and Himmel Street. One could not exist without the other, because for Liesel, both were home. Yes, that's what Hans Hubermann was for Liesel Meminger. — Markus Zusak

Papa- the accordionist- and Himmel Street.

One could not exist without the other, because for Liesel, both were home. — Markus Zusak

In mid-February, when she turned ten, Liesel was given a used doll that had a missing leg and yellow hair. "It was the best we could do," Papa apologized. "What are you talking about? She's lucky to have that much," Mama corrected him. — Markus Zusak

The book thief lay in bed that night, and the boy only came before she closed her eyes. He was one member of a cast, for Liesel was always visited in that room. Her papa stood and called her half a woman. Max was writing The Word Shaker in the corner. Rudy was naked by the door. Occasionally her mother stood on a bedside train platform. And far away, in the room that stretched like a bridge to a nameless town, her brother, Werner, played in the cemetery snow. — Markus Zusak

Cigarette, flipped it on the table, and began on another. "Just like this." That was when Mama finished her soup with a clank, suppressed a cardboard burp, and answered for him. "That Saukerl," she said. "You know what he did? He rolled up all of his filthy cigarettes, went to the market when it was in town, and traded them with some gypsy." "Eight cigarettes per book." Papa shoved one to his mouth, in triumph. He lit up and took in the smoke. "Praise the Lord for cigarettes, huh, Mama?" Mama only handed him one of her trademark looks of disgust, followed by the most common ration of her vocabulary. "Saukerl." Liesel swapped a customary wink with her papa and finished eating her soup. As always, one of her books was next to her. She could not deny that the answer to her — Markus Zusak

Sitting in the water, she imagined the smell of it, mapped out on her papa's clothes. More than anything, it was the smell of friendship, and she could find it on herself, too. Liesel loved that smell. She would sniff her arm and smile as the water cooled around her. — Markus Zusak