Markus Zusak Quotes - Page 3

Make no mistake, the woman had a heart. She had a bigger one that people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving. Remember that she was the woman with the instrument strapped to her body in the long, moon-slit night.

Only hearts... They're in the inside of the inside of me.

But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?

As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning.

She said it out loud, the words distributed into a room that was full of cold air and books. Books everywhere! Each wall was armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, the red, the gray, the every-colored books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen. With wonder, she smiled. That such a room existed!

You should give it to Max, Liesel. See if you can leave it on the bedside table, like all the other things." Liesel watched him as if he'd gone insane. "How, though?" Lightly, he tapped her skull with his knuckles. "Memorize it. Then write it down for him.

It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.

Summer came. For the book thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews. When their bodies had finished scouring for gaps in the door, their souls rose up. When their fingernails had scratched at the wood and in some cases were nailed into it by the sheer force of desperation, their spirits came toward me, into my arms, and we climbed out of those shower facilities, onto the roof and up, into eternity's certain breadth. They just kept feeding me. Minute after minute. Shower after shower.

I am hunted by humans.

I walked home, seeing all my doubt from the other side. Have you ever seen that? Like when you go on holiday. On the way back, everything is the same but it looks a little different than it did on the way. It's because you're seeing it backwards.

As always, one of her books was next to her.

Goodbye, Papa, you saved me. You taught me to read. No one can play like you. I'll never drink champagne. No one can play like you." -Liesel

Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.

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

Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.

No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.

He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.

She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.

A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.

It felt as though the whole globe was dressed in snow. Like it has pulled it on, the way you pull on a sweater. Next to the train line, footprints were sunken to their shins. Trees wore blankets of ice. As you may expect, someone has died.

I like that every page in every book can have a gem on it. It's probably what I love most about writing--that words can be used in a way that's like a child playing in a sandpit, rearranging things, swapping them around. They're the best moments in a day of writing -- when an image appears that you didn't know would be there when you started work in the morning.

I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.

Very suddenly. Yes, quite suddenly, I didn't feel like I could handle my feeling of aloneness.

She took a step and didn't want to take any more, but she did.

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