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Liesel's blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled. She almost broke into pieces on the steps.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Inside
Blood
Almost
Crumbled
Dried
Broke
Pieces
Steps

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The bittersweetness of uncertainty: To win or to lose.
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We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.
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I don't really know that this story has a whole lot of things happen in it. It doesn't really. It's just a record of how things were in my life during this last winter. I guess things happened, but nothing out of the ordinary.
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for some reason, dying men always ask the question they know the answer to. perhaps it's so they can die being right.
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But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?
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I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.
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I like to tell students, 'I didn't burst on to the literary scene.' I'm never good at things at the beginning. I was terrible at the start. I need to work and work.
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If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.
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I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.
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It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.
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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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You don't always get what you wish for. Especially in Nazi Germany
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How about a kiss, Saumensch?
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When she faced the noise, she found the mayor’s wife in a brand-new bathrobe and slippers. On the breast pocket of the robe sat an embroidered swastika. Propaganda even reached the bathroom.
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You can do anything when it's not real.
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But for now, happiness throws stones. It guards itself. I wait.
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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.
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I read some books that were the right books for me. I read them and I didn't even notice turning the pages anymore. I thought, That's what I want to do with my life.
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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.
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I guess when someone tells you something they they usually guard, you feel privileged, not because you know something no-one else knows, but because you feel chosen. You feel like that person wants her life to intersect with yours. I think that's what felt best about it.
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