Markus Zusak Quotes

***A KEY WORD*** Imagined

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

Shadows of cloud lurked in the water, like holes the sun forgot about.

An eleven-year-old girl is many things, but she is not stupid.

The paper landed on the table, but the news was stapled to his chest. A tattoo.

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

In years to come, he would be a giver of bread, not a stealer - proof again of the contradictory human being. So much good, so much evil. Just add water.

You can't eat books, sweetheart.

I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.

It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.

And then there's the sickness I feel from looking at legs I can't touch, or at lips that don't smile at me. Or hips that don't reach for me. And hearts that don't beat for me.

Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.

Tears were frozen to the book theif's face.

Disbelief held me down inside my footsteps, making my body heavy but my heart wild.

She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.

All my friends seem to be smart arses. Don't ask me why. Like many things, it is what it is.

Can a person steal happiness? Or is just another internal, infernal human trick?

I love and hate this place because it is full of words.

The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.

If her soul ever leaks, I want it to land on me.

I wanted to drown inside a woman in the feeling and drooling of the love I could give her. I wanted her pulse to crush me with its intensity. That's what I wanted. That's what I wanted myself to be.

She kept watching the words.

The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.

Have you ever noticed that idiots have a lot of friends? It's just an observation.

The pages and the words are my world, spread out before your eyes and for your hand to touch. Vaguely, I can see you face looking down into me, as I look back. Do you see my eyes?

Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.

The point is, Ilsa Hermann had decided to make suffering her triumph. When it refused to let go of her, she succumbed to it. She embraced it.

Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. (p.36)

It would then be brought abruptly to an end, for the brightness had shown suffering the way.

I'm just another stupid human.

You should know it yourself- a young man is still a boy, and a boy sometimes has the right to be stubborn.

We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.

I can promise you that the world is a factory. The sun stirs it, the humans rule it. And I remain. I carry them away.- spoken by death

It’s a small story really, about, among other things: * A girl * Some words * An accordionist * Some fanatical Germans * A Jewish fist fighter * And quite a lot of thievery

She gave 'The Dream Carrier' to Max as if words alone could nourish him.

in the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears.

Her teeth were like a soccer crowd, crammed in.

I'd been in love with her for years. I never left this suburban town. I didn't go to university. I went to Audrey.

...they watched the humans disappear. They watched them dissolve, like moving tablets in the humid air.

I say, 'Don't lose your heart, Rube.' And very clearly, without moving, my brother answers me. He says, 'I'm not tryin' to lose it, Cam. I'm tryin' to find it.

Something I'd like to be perfect at? ... Loving you,' I said. The words climbed from my mouth. 'I'd want to be perfect at loving you.

Is there cowardice with the acknowledgement of fear?

It’s all very well for such a person to whine and moan and criticize other family members, but they won’t let anyone else do it. That’s when you get your back up and show loyalty.

If you ever write a book, I can only give you one piece of advice. Don't let your parents get involved.

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

That's typically what writers do; we just sit around complaining most of the time. And the better things are going, the more they complain.

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.

I've been a writer since I was 16. I didn't get published until I was 24. I know that sounds crazy.

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.