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No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Many
Abandonment
Unconditional
Recognition
Proof
Told
Loved
Times
Matter

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You see, to me, for just a moment, despite all of the colors that touch and grapple with what I see in this world, I will often catch an eclipse when a human dies. I've seen millions of them. I've seen more eclipses than I care to remember
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It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them
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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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I think to be writer you have to enjoy being alone. I was a loner as a teenager and was always drawn to characters in books and films who were at the fringes.
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If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.
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Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.
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I s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.
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The bombs were coming-and so was I.
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I thought what if death is more like thinking, well, war is like the boss at your shoulder, constantly wanting more, wanting more, wanting more, and then that gave me the idea that Death is weary, he's fatigued, and he's haunted by what he sees humans do to each other because he's on hand for all of our great miseries.
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You cannot be afraid, Read the book. Smile at it. It's a great book-the greatest book you've ever read.
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An eleven-year-old girl is many things, but she is not stupid.
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My voice is like a rumour. I'm not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.
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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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The nightmares arrived like they always did, much like the best player in the opposition when you've heard rumors that he might be injured or sick-but there he is, warming up with the rest of them, ready to take the field.
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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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I watch the beauty for as long as I can, then turn and face the rest of it.
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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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The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs.
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You don't shoot a dog when it is already dead.
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Two weeks to change the world, fourteen days to destroy it.
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