Quotes Book Thief Novels & Stories

We head back towards the house and he bumps into my leg repeatedly, trying to get me to turn around. "Stop trying to herd me. I'm not a sheep." I tell him firmly, tossing him a treat as I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. I lay down, thinking about the book as I stare at my ceiling. Basil jumps on the bed, spinning a few times before he lays down next to me. I run my fingers through his fur absentmindedly, my brain refusing to stop spinning as I think about the first few pages of the book. It started out with the beginning stages of a war, the main character building an army of werewolves to defeat their arch nemesis.

I mean it does not take more than two days to receive their opinions. I look around my room, this room gave so many memories to me, this is my comfort place here in the Cravens manor. My eyes landed on the red roses in the base, it was withering. I decided to take one of the roses as I want it to be on my journey. I take the book in my bag, it is the book of prophecy. I open it and I put the red rose in the middle of the book. I take it in Shilohs room without his knowledge. It is not stealing because I know that— okay fine it is stealing. But it is for the sake of my future and I know that this book can help me. So for emergency purposes I decided to keep it and take it away from Shiloh.

He snapped the book shut with a loud thud and strode toward me. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low and venomous as he stopped just inches from me. His towering frame made me feel smaller than I already did. “I know you’ve read this book. I’ve seen you sneaking books out of the mansion library. You think I don’t notice?” My breath hitched as my mind scrambled for a response. “I… I wasn’t—” “Enough,” he growled, cutting me off. “Do you think I’m a fool, Kira? That I wouldn’t catch on to your little hobby of stealing books? Do you know what that makes you? A thief. Just like your traitor parents.”

“He wasn’t following me. He was looking for a book. And guess which book it happened to be?” Piper leaned forward, eyes bright. “Don’t tell me it was…” “Wuthering Heights,” I muttered. She slapped the table so hard the couple at the next booth jumped. “Of course it was! That is literally the brooding bad boy manual. He was hunting for a copy of the tragic love story. You cannot make this up.” “It’s not funny,” I said, though my face was burning. “I already had the copy on my table, and he asked for it.”

It’s the first real smell in the entire place. And books. Hundreds of them. Not decorator books arranged by color. Real books. Worn spines. Dog-eared pages. I run my fingers along the shelves. Financial theory. Biographies of Carnegie and Rockefeller. Philosophy. History. And fiction. I pull out a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. The spine creaks. Pages are yellowed, soft as cloth. I flip through and stop at the margin notes inked in neat, sharp handwriting. "Revenge consumes the avenger," written next to a passage about Edmond Dantès.

I muttered before getting out of my drenched clothes and putting on some loose fitting pants and a green T-shirt. I headed out to the library, to search for the book that Margot Had been talking about. “the book will find you” she said, “you don’t have much time heir of Quillon” she said, she was starting to annoy me and get on my nerves a lot, who the fuck was Quillon anyway?, I had walked all the way to the back of the library at this point and I whipped my head around when I heard a thud about two shelves back, I traced the sound and saw a large tome on the floor, picking it up I saw that it had no title whatsoever, “what are the odds?” I murmured and slid to the floor as I opened the boo

Beautiful iridescent murals covered the walls, and the nearly unlimited power sources available to the society meant that being underground never meant feeling as if you were in a cave. Well. . . Rarely. For about an hour, Jacquard had been tracking the thief who narrowly escaped. The thief left with a book. He did not know the title but he felt it will definitely be one of the ancient books. He went straight to the shelf as if it was pointed to him. He felt unrest. After the whole thing, still, none of the guards showed up. It was as if they had been informed not to interfere. He felt so confused. Why did the guards not come to his aid even when they heard those deafening noises from inside

– but here, wrapped deep in the warm duvet, she didn’t want to move a muscle. The air smelled wonderful. Clean, earthy, like rich soil after a summer rain. And like him. Like Hades. Like his beard, maybe? She had to stop herself from mentally swooning. Seriously, Claudine? Get a grip! Her eyes scanned everywhere. The room was mostly dark colors, making it feel cozy despite its size. She noticed a tall bookshelf, full of books, and a comfy-looking chair tucked in a corner – a study nook. Wow. He even reads. The mafia boss has a library.

I wandered through them without purpose, my fingers trailing across the spines of books I couldn't read, their titles in languages I didn't understand. Where do I even start? How do I find out what I am? What's the point, when Lukas already controls everything? I turned a corner. And walked straight into Thorne. He was sitting on the floor between two bookshelves, a massive leather-bound volume open in his lap, a dagger in his hand. The blade caught the dim light, gleaming silver. "Watch where you're going," he said without looking up. "You're in the library." "Astute observation."

Despite the minor disturbance, I couldn't help but grin, thoroughly charmed by her irrepressible enthusiasm for life. As I began to pack up, Mrs. Thompson, the librarian, wheeled a cart of books near my table. My eyes darted to a book she had picked up off the shelf and placed on the cart. Its antique leather cover was embossed with intricate patterns surrounding an image of a wolf howling at the moon. Something in me stirred inexplicably when I noticed it. "Mrs. Thompson, could I check that book out?" I blurted, surprising myself with the urgency in my voice.