If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter and bread with only the scent of jam spread … - Markus Zusak

If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.

It's a lot easier, she realized, to be on the verge of something than to actually be it. This would still take time.

It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.

A book floated down the Amper River.
A boy jumped in, caught up to it, and held
it in his right hand. He grinned. He stood
waist-deep in the icy, Decemberish water.
“How about a kiss, Saumensch?” he said.