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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.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Found
Brand
Mayor
Even
Breasts
Robes
Pockets
Mayors
Propaganda
Pocket
Swastika
Reached
Breast
Bathrobe
Brands
Bathroom
Embroidered
Noise
Faced
Robe
Wife
Sat
Slippers

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Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. (p.36)
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She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.
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Competence was attractive.
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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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You can do all manner of underhanded nice things when you have a caustic reputation.
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When I was growing up, I wanted to be a house painter like my father, but I was always screwing up when I went to work with him. I had a talent for knocking over paint and painting myself into corners. I also realized fairly quickly that painting bored me.
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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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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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There were stars. They burned my eyes.
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He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.
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I'm not a writer who refuses to talk about a book until I've finished.
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The silence was always the greates temptation.
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If her soul ever leaks, I want it to land on me.
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Soon evening worked its way into the sky, and the city hunched itself down.
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Everything was good. But it was awful, too.
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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 realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.
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