Quote

Yes, the sky was now a devastating, home-cooked red. The small German town had been flung apart one more time. Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Lips
Catch
Snowflake
Sky
Town
Cooked
Taste
Red
Devastating
Small
Mouth
Stretch
Home
Apart
Tempted
Would
Towns
Ashes
Scorched
Time
Tongue
German
Snowflakes
Mouths
Fell
Flung

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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The conversation of bullets.
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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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Can a person steal happiness? Or is just another internal, infernal human trick?
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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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We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.
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To me the question is always this: if a ray of light came out of the sky and said, Your next book will never be published - would you still write it? If the answer is yes, the book is worth writing.
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It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.
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The last time I saw her was red. The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places, it was burned. There were black crumbs, and pepper, streaked across the redness.
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I'm having bigger problems when I'm writing.
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It's insane to be a writer and not be a reader. When I'm writing I'm more likely to be reading four or five books at once, just in bits and pieces rather than subjecting myself to a really brilliant book and thinking, Well what's the point of me writing anything? I'm more likely to read a book through when I take a break from writing.
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I guess that’s the beauty of books. When they finish they don’t really finish.
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A fighter can be a winner, but that doesn't make a winner a fighter.
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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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… it was raining on Himmel Street when the world ended for Liesel Meminger. The sky was dripping. Like a tap that a child has tried its hardest to turn off but hasn’t quite managed.
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Only hearts... They're in the inside of the inside of me.
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Clearly, I see it. I was just about to leave when I found her kneeling there. A mountain range of rubble was written, designed, erected around her. She was clucthing at a book.
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An attribute of Rosa Hubermann, she was a good woman for a crisis.
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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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Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn't ever appear to be breathing.
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A small fact: You are going to die....does this worry you?
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