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I have to say that although it broke my heart, I was, and still am, glad I was there.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 50
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Although
Stills
Still
Heart
Broke
Glad

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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.
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How about a kiss, Saumensch?
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There are moments when you can only stand and stare, watching the world forget you as you remove yourself from it - when you overcome it and cease to exist as the person you were.
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Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn't ever appear to be breathing.
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It brewed in her as she eyed the pages full to the brims of their bellies with paragraphs and words. You bastards, she thought. You lovely bastards. Don’t make me happy. Please, don’t fill me up and let me think that something good can come of any of this.
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I try hard and aim big. People can hate or love my books but they can never accuse me of not trying.
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You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.
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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.
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...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.
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Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?
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...and the night is so deep and dark that I wonder if the sun will ever come up.
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An eleven-year-old girl is many things, but she is not stupid.
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My own eyes try to sleep, but they don't. They stay wide awake as time snarls forward and silence drops down, like measured thought.
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Liesel shrugged away entirely from the crowd and entered the tide of Jews, weaving through them till she grabbed hold of his arm with her left hand. His face fell on her. It reached down as she tripped, and the Jew,the nasty Jew, helped her up. It took all of his strength.
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I think she ate a salad and some soup. And loneliness. She ate that, too.
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Clearly, I see it. I was just about to leave when I found her kneeling there. A mountain range of rubble was written, designed, erected around her. She was clucthing at a book.
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All my friends seem to be smart arses. Don't ask me why. Like many things, it is what it is.
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The Gunman is useless. I know it. He knows it. The whole bank knows it.
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She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.
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I’m Angelina,” she says. “Are you here to save us?” I can see a tiny spark of hope awaken in her eyes. “You’re right, Angelina - I’m here to save you.” “Can you? Really?” “I’ll try,” I say and the girl smiles.
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