Markus Zusak Quotes

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

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

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

Competence was attractive.

If a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.

You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.

But neither of us knows, because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it.

I think she ate a salad and some soup. And loneliness. She ate that, too.

She even touches Jimmy's face on the photos, and I see what it is to love someone like Milla loved that man. Her fingertips are made of love.

I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her.

And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me.

You don't shoot a dog when it is already dead.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking such things...' She let the sentence die its own death

Can a wolfe be beautiful?

He prefers not to ruin things with any more questions. What it is is what it is.

...and the night is so deep and dark that I wonder if the sun will ever come up.

You can do anything when it's not real. When it is real, nothing breaks your fall. Nothing gets between you and the ground.

I'm asking you, I'm begging you, could you please shut your mouth for just five minutes?" You can imagine the reaction. They ended up in the basement.

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

Of course you're real-like any thought or any story. It's real when you're in it.

an expression of surprise falls from her face, though she's trying to keep it. it breaks off and she seems to catch it and fidget with it in her hands.

There were not many people who could say that their education had been paid for with cigarettes.

..As always, she was carrying the washing. Rudy was carrying two buckets of cold water, or as he put it, two buckets of future ice.

I also fear that nothing really ends at the end. Things just keep going as long as memory can wield its ax, always finding a soft part in your mind to cut through and enter.

How about a kiss, Saumensch?

Everything was good. But it was awful, too.

Even enemies were an inch away from friendship.

But for now, happiness throws stones. It guards itself. I wait.

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

I think to be writer you have to enjoy being alone. I was a loner as a teenager and was always drawn to characters in books and films who were at the fringes.

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'm not a writer who refuses to talk about a book until I've finished.

I try hard and aim big. People can hate or love my books but they can never accuse me of not trying.

Soon evening worked its way into the sky, and the city hunched itself down.

Fear is shiny. Ruthless in the eyes.

The happening that happened was that I met this girl.

Better that we leave the paint behind," Hans told her, "than ever forget the music.

An attribute of Rosa Hubermann, she was a good woman for a crisis.

We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.

The Gunman is useless. I know it. He knows it. The whole bank knows it.

Beautiful women are the torment of my existence.

If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.

It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.

I s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.

I'm not one of these 'the characters write themselves; the story just fell out of me' kind of writers. Wish it was like that.

Ed?" Ritchie says later. We're still standing in the water. "There's only one thing I want." "What's that, Ritchie?" His answer is simple. "To want.

Have faith, Ed, all right?' I search the coffee mug, but there's none in there.

When a person's last response was Saumensch or Saukerl or Arschloch, you knew you had them beaten.

She let herself love me for three minutes. Can three minutes last forever? I ask myself, but already know the answer. Probably not, I reply. But maybe they last long enough.

There were stars. They burned my eyes.