Markus Zusak Quotes
All four of us were young and undaunted and our smiles were so strong that it made me smile even then on the couch, with a kind of loss.
Steve, on the other hand, has plenty of friends, but he wouldn't bleed for any of them, because he wouldn't trust them to bleed for him. In that way he's just as alone as me.
When I picked him up originally, the boy's spirit was soft and cold, like ice-cream. He started melting in my arms. Then warming up completely. Healing.
The impoverished always try to keep moving, as if relocating might help.
That’s when I have to ask him. “Can you really talk like that? Being holy and all?”“What? Because I’m a priest?” He finishes the dregs of his coffee. “Sure. God knows what’s important.
He was the second snowman to be melting away before her eyes, only this one was different. It was a paradox. The colder he became, the more he melted.
The only people we want to blame are ourselves, because it will be ourselves that we rely upon.
... tried praying for him ...but I couldn't. I just couldn't. Don't ask me why. I hoped that he was okay, but I couldn't summon the strength to pray for it.
The thing is, I don't even hate cops. To tell you the truth, I actually feel a little sorry for them.
sometimes the human race likes to crank things up a little. They increase the production of bodies and their escaping souls.
How could she ever know that someone would pick her story up and carry it with him everywhere?
We used to languish when we walked, or sidle down the street like dogs that have just done something wrong. Now Rube walks upright, because he's on the attack.
The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun islike a yellow hole. . .
Make sure you live, ' she said. 'As decent as you can. I know you'll make mistakes, but sometimes you're meant to, okay?
Papa!” she whispered. “I have no eyes!”He patted the girl’s hair. She’d fallen into his trap. “With a smile like that, ” Hans Hubermann said, “you don’t need eyes.
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.
Their heartbeats fought each other, a mess of rhythm. Liesel tried to eat hers down. The taste of heart was not too cheerful.
The city was dark except for the building lights that seemed to appear like sores - like bandaids had been ripped off to expose the city's skin.
I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair and surprise.
People observe the colors of a day at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quiet clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.
Right. That's twenty-two fifty.""Twenty-two fifty?" We can't hide our exasperation."Well, yeah - this is a classy joint, you know.""That's obvious - the service is incredible.
I actually feel quite self-indulgent at the moment, telling you all about me, me, me.(...) On the other hand, you're a human -you should understand self obsession.
Whoever named Himmel Street certainly had a healthy sense of irony. Not that is was a living hell. It wasn't. But is sure as hell wasn't heaven, either.
... because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it. It's the ones in between that test you. They're the ones that bring questions with them.
That paper--it sits there, open at the employment section. It sits there like a war, and each small advertisement is another trench for a person to dive into. To hope and fight in.
If someone wanted to be a runner, you don't tell them to think about running, you tell them to run. And the same simple idea applies to writing, I hope.
You might well ask just what the hell he was thinking. The answer is, probably nothing at all.He'd probably say he was exercising his God-given right to stupidity.
The question is, what colour will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?
It's lucky I was there. Then again, who am I kidding? I'm in most places at least once, and in 1943, I was just about everywhere.
It's pathetic how a man can stand by and do nothing as a whole nation cleans out the garbage and makes itself great"-Hans Junior
One good punch from Rube on me would send the sky into my head and the clouds into my lungs. I just always tried to stay up.
Awkward.That's exactly how it was when we walked over to our sister and stood on each side of her, looking at her and feeling things and not knowing what to do.
The word maybe was beginning to annoy me, because the only thing that was fixed was that maybe would be with me forever.
I had to decide what I was going to do, and what I was going to be.I was standing there, waiting for someone to do something, till I realised the person I was waiting for was myself.
