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Summer came. For the books thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews.
Markus Zusak
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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Book
Jews
Going
Jew
Sky
Summer
Color
Books
Nicely
Came
Thief
Everything
Thieves
More quotes by Markus Zusak
She looks at the swings, and I can see she’s imagining what they’d look like if the kids weren’t there. The guilt of this holds her down momentarily. It appears to be there constantly. Never far away, despite her love for them. I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.
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Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father's eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver.
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But neither of us knows, because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it.
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...to swear with a ferocity that can only be described as a talent.
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The bittersweetness of uncertainty: To win or to lose.
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Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.
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They'd been standing like that for thirty seconds of forever.
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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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The conversation of bullets.
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I love and hate this place because it is full of words.
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We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.
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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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You should give it to Max, Liesel. See if you can leave it on the bedside table, like all the other things. Liesel watched him as if he'd gone insane. How, though? Lightly, he tapped her skull with his knuckles. Memorize it. Then write it down for him.
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Soon evening worked its way into the sky, and the city hunched itself down.
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If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.
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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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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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I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.
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You can do anything when it's not real. When it is real, nothing breaks your fall. Nothing gets between you and the ground.
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I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
Markus Zusak