Romans & histoires The Book Thief Quotes With Page Number

“I’m looking for an old book. They said only this place has it.” I finally lifted my gaze, meeting his. “What are you looking for?” My voice came out calm, sharp, slightly cynical, just like Mae. “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” he replied politely. I gestured to the shelf behind me. “Top shelf. Left side.” He nodded quickly and moved. “Thanks.” I raised an eyebrow, silent. “Cut.”

It all looked very interesting. I turned a few more pages. "How far are you with translating?" I asked him, while still running my fingers on the words that continued to give me a funny feeling. I turned to the next page and my breath hitched. "I'm on the 74th page." He answered and I looked down at the page number I was on. Page 501. He still had a long way to go. My face flushed and I couldn't get my eyes off the beast I was staring at. The book had no images with colour, but I could already imagine the creature with bright glowing green eyes.

"I'm not building a case. I'm making sure the picture is complete." "I know," he said. "I know what you're doing." "Good." I opened the book again. "The memory is going to stay with me. The sidewalk one." I looked at the page without reading it. "I'm glad I have it. Even though it's — I'm glad I have it." "Why," he said. Genuinely asking.

Gazing back towards the book, it felt as if something was pushing me towards it. I got up and walked towards the book. Placing it on my lap I noticed that the cover was filled with complicated detailing. The material felt rough, it felt old but well-taken care of. The colors were a mixture of ash grey, gold, and specks of white, the title was written in crimson red. Taking a bite from my food, I opened the first page of the book. ---------- [Chapter Quote: "Her soul belongs to words and books. Every time she reads, she is home ."]

Things I know are true. "Thank you," she said. He nodded once, the way he always did — small, definitive, the gesture of a man who received gratitude as information rather than sentiment. She took the book. She carried it back to the library and replaced it on the third shelf from the bottom and stood for a moment with her hand on its spine. Page 247. The crack that came from returning. She understood it now. The people who had come back to this page, again and again — not for answers, which the page didn't have, but for the evidence of the question. The proof that something had happened here. That it was real.

A thick acrid haze of smoke filled the tunnel. The thief was nowhere to be seen. Not that Jacquard could have much of anybody in this smoky gloom. For a moment, Jacquard hesitated. But then a voice inside his head said, " You have to find the book!" Jacquard could not ignore it . He stepped forward a few feet, trying to see better. Behind him, the door slammed shut with a great groaning boooooom. "Hey!" Jacquard called. The sound echoed loudly, reacting and repeating before finally dying away.

That scene made me smiled bitterly, I miss the times where don’t have any problems, where father always buy me books, sing for me every night, and read books loudly. I’m at the end of the book when I noticed something, scribbles of letters and words are visible in the last page, I got up and find a pen and a paper, I sat down and flip the pages until I reach the first page, I can’t believe it there are scribbles write down the key words in every pages, hoping that it might help me building my life. The key words that I got are “Book #1- birthday, Photo Album #6- highlighted me, Book #7- Look closely, Photo- the answer to all your doubts” my head hurts reading these clues a lot of books have

‘You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me. The words sent a chill down Roseanne's spine, prompting her to return the book to its place with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What on earth were you possessed with, Nathan?" She knew that she should not judge him too soon. However, she could not control the urge to. She turned to Wuthering Heights, a book placed on the book shelve over his desk. She flipped through its pages while spotting several highlighted quotes. Each quote held a clue to Nathaniel's inner mind. It was a world she sought to unravel in order to understand him.

“It’s not cringe, it’s… intense.” He bit into another strawberry, chewed slowly like he was tasting me, not the fruit. “Mm. Intense. Right. So you like your men… what was it again? Smiling while choking people against marble walls?” “I hate you,” I muttered, heat crawling up my neck. “Give me the book.” He held it higher, out of reach, as if I were some flustered toddler begging for candy. “You dog-eared this page, you know. Page 248. You marked it. That’s personal.”

Morrigan's voice trembled. “It’s old enough that meaning no longer plays a role for him.” The librarian raised something. A hand. Or something similar. A huge figure of characters and shadows. Letters fell down from her like black rain. Phrases. Words. Names. Forgotten names. The sky over Nerevin darkened. Then the librarian spoke. Not loud. And yet it heard the whole city. A voice of a thousand voices. From millions. ‘THE LAST PAGE’. Mara felt the sound in her bones.