He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world. She was the book thief without the words. Trust me, though, the words we… - Markus Zusak

The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.

A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH
I do not carry a sickle or scythe.
I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold.
And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.

I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty and I wonder how the same can be both.

Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.