Book: The book thief. Page 2

***Some information about Stalingrad***
1. In 1942 and early 1943 the sky in this city each morning, and fade to white sheets.
2. All day long while I stand in the sky of the soul, the sheet sprinkles with blood, until she was soaked through and did not SAG to the ground.
3. In the evening it is squeezed and re-bleached to the next dawn.
4. And all this while the fighting was going on only during the day.

Please do not worry, let me you just got threatened.
All this bragging - I'm not fierce.
I'm not angry.
I - the result.

It's been a year, costing an era, as the 79th or 1346 minutes- and many others. That there spit the hell needed a broom or a MOP. And I leave.

One of them was a book thief. The other stole the sky.

It is difficult to warm the hands, if the soul is still shaking.

Over the years I have seen a great many young men who think that they are going to attack others of the same.
But no.
They are going to attack me.

I can tell you, the world is a factory. The sun stirs it, the people govern.

I hated the words and loved them, and hope I made them correctly.

Rudy Steiner was afraid of the kiss book thieves. I too wanted one.
He's probably so incredibly much I loved her. So much that will never ask for her lips and going to the grave never having tasted them.

Want a little more is not a crime.

"I..." the Answer was given to him with difficulty. When all was quiet, I went into the hallway and the living room between the curtains left a crack... it was Possible to look out into the street. I watched only a few seconds. He didn't see the outside world twenty-two months. No anger, no reproach. Said The Pope. - And what do you see? Max with great sorrow and great amazement raised his head. - There were stars, he said. - They burned my eyes.

On these mornings in the kitchen Dad gave accordion life. In my opinion, if you really think these words have meaning. How do we determine whether we have before us? Look, if breathing.

When she appeared, with her hands still down the snow bites, and fingers - bloody frost. It was some nelokalnoe. Wire legs. Hands as rakes. A smile she wasn't soon, but if she was, was zamorena. Her hair was variety quite similar to German blond, but the eyes - quite dangerous. Dark brown. In those days in Germany, few people would like to have brown eyes. Maybe they got liesel from the father, but knowing she probably couldn't, because father liesel couldn't remember. About the father she remembered only one thing. The label, which I could not understand.

The question is, what colors will be all painted with the minute when I will come for you. What will say the sky?
Personally, I love chocolate. The sky is the color of dark, dark chocolate. Say, this color suits me. However, I try to enjoy all the colors that you see - the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavors, and no two are the same - and the sky which I slowly absorbed. All of this smooths out the sharp edges of my burden. Helps to relax.