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The commitment had disappeared, and although he still watched the imagined glory of stealing, she could see now he was not believing. He was trying to believe it, and that’s never a good sign.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 50
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Believe
Stealing
Good
Sign
Never
Although
Commitment
Glory
Disappeared
Stills
Imagined
Still
Watched
Trying
Believing

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I just know that right now, we want to be proud. For once. We want to take the struggle and rise above it. We want to frame it, live it, survive it. We want to put it in our mouths and taste it and never forget it, because it makes us strong.
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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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The night is alive with stars, and when I lie down and look up, I get lost up there. I feel like I’m falling, but upward, into the abyss of sky above me.
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You’re a human, you should understand self-obsession.
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A REASSURING ANNOUNCEMENT Please, be calm, despite that previous threat. I am all bluster - I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result.
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His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come. Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.
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An eleven-year-old girl is many things, but she is not stupid.
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I'm not a writer who refuses to talk about a book until I've finished.
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I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her. Nothing, however, exits my mouth. How well do we really let ourselves know each other? There's a long quietness until I finally break it open. It reminds me of someone breaking bread and handing it out. In my case, I hand out a question to my friend.
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A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)
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Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.
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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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The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.
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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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A happening was looming. It was out there somewhere beyond the regular enclosed life that I had been living. It was out there, not waiting, but existing. Being. Perhaps it was only slightly wondering if I would come to 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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Two weeks to change the world, fourteen days to destroy it.
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If her soul ever leaks, I want it to land on me.
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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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The conversation of bullets.
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