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Better that we leave the paint behind, Hans told her, than ever forget the music.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Forget
Music
Better
Hans
Paint
Ever
Behinds
Behind
Leave
Told

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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Grimly, she realized that clocks don't make a sound that even remotely resembles ticking, tocking. It was more the sound of a hammer, upside down, hacking methodically at the earth. It was the sound of a grave.
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..As always, she was carrying the washing. Rudy was carrying two buckets of cold water, or as he put it, two buckets of future ice.
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For a moment, I panic. It's that feeling of falling when you know without question, that you've lost control of your car, or made a mistake that's beyond repair. 'What do I do now?' I ask desperately. 'Tell me! What do I do now?' He remains calm. He looks at me closely and says, 'Keep living, Ed... It's only the pages that stop here.
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She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.
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If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.
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Why me?' I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.
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I always marvel at the humans' ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces.
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Because you don't learn anything unless you can find the patience to read. TV takes that away from you. It robs you from your mind.
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We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.
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Even enemies were an inch away from friendship.
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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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She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.
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I'm not one of these 'the characters write themselves the story just fell out of me' kind of writers. Wish it was like that.
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Only hearts... They're in the inside of the inside of me.
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I watch the beauty for as long as I can, then turn and face the rest of it.
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Five hundred souls. I carried them in my fingers, like suitcases. Or I'd throw them over my shoulder. It was only the the children I carried in my arms.
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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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When death captures me, the boy vowed, he will feel my fist in his face. (31.26)
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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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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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