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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

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Thing
Damning
Glorious
Brilliant
Ugly
Asks
Words
Stories
Wanted

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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If her soul ever leaks, I want it to land on me.
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All my friends seem to be smart arses. Don't ask me why. Like many things, it is what it is.
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I have to say that although it broke my heart, I was, and still am, glad I was there.
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Liesel's blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled. She almost broke into pieces on the steps.
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It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.
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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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The day was gray, the color of Europe.
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The point is, Ilsa Hermann had decided to make suffering her triumph. When it refused to let go of her, she succumbed to it. She embraced it.
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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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The happening that happened was that I met this girl.
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As she watched all of this, Liesel was certain that these were the poorest souls alive. That's what she wrote about them . . . Some looked appealingly at those who had come to observe their humiliation, this prelude to their deaths. Others pleaded for someone, anyone to step forward and catch them in their arms. No one did.
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Outside is dark. The kitchen light is loud. It deafens me as I walk towards it.
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Failure has been my best friend as a writer. It tests you, to see if you have what it takes to see it through.
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It brewed in her as she eyed the pages full to the brims of their bellies with paragraphs and words. You bastards, she thought. You lovely bastards. Don’t make me happy. Please, don’t fill me up and let me think that something good can come of any of this.
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Everything was good. But it was awful, too.
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Shadows of cloud lurked in the water, like holes the sun forgot about.
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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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Liesel shrugged away entirely from the crowd and entered the tide of Jews, weaving through them till she grabbed hold of his arm with her left hand. His face fell on her. It reached down as she tripped, and the Jew,the nasty Jew, helped her up. It took all of his strength.
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Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.
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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.
Markus Zusak