Markus Zusak Quotes - Page 13

You don't always get what you wish for. Especially in Nazi Germany

Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment. 'There were stars,' He said. 'They burned my eyes.’ ...from a Himmel street window, he wrote, the stars set fire to my eyes.

Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

People die of broken hearts. They have heart attacks. And it's the heart that hurts most when things go wrong and fall apart.

The days and nights come apart. I feel them corroding at the seams.

The human child – so much cannier at times than the stupefyingly ponderous adult.

I watch the beauty for as long as I can, then turn and face the rest of it.

You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.

Outside is dark. The kitchen light is loud. It deafens me as I walk towards it.

When we move apart, she looks at me again, till a small tear lifts itself up in her eye. It trips out to find a wrinkle and follows it down.

The first couple of times, he simply stayed - a stranger to kill the aloneness. A few nights after that, he whispered “Shhh, I’m here, its alright.” After three weeks, he held her. Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man’s gentleness, his thereness.

Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces.

One wild card was yet to be played.

Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?

We underestimate teenagers at our peril. Even the dismissive thing out on the street--look at what they're wearing. Then we'll hear stories about how a toddler fell on the tracks, and it's often a teenager who comes to the rescue and walks away because he or she doesn't want any credit. I recognize it because I've written books for teenagers--it's basically that they feel things more than adults do. They want things more than you think. They want things with greater depth than you think they do. Teenagers have got a lot of soul that adults have forgotten they have within themselves.

She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.

I find writing extremely difficult. I usually have to drag myself to my desk, mainly because I doubt myself. And it's getting harder because I want to improve with every book.

I just want to write someone’s favorite book

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

You might argue that I make the rounds no matter what year it is, but sometimes the human race likes to crank things up a little. They increase the production of bodies and their escaping souls.

They were glued down, every last one of them. A packet of souls. Was it fate?Misfortune?Is that what glued them down like that?Of course not.Let's not be stupid.It probably had more to do with the hurled bombs, thrown down by humans hiding in the clouds.

The dilemma, of course, is that such people save their most important words for after, when the surrounding humans are unlucky enough to find them.

People abhor boxing, and I agree, but I admire men and women who can stand in a ring like that, nowhere to hide. I've only been to a couple of boxing matches, and they're different from any other event. I'm not there to see blood; I'm there for the heart of someone being able to get up and keep going. And for the respect that's often there in the end.

A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)

Amplified by the still of night, the book opened -- a gust of wind.