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
Mouths
Fell
Flung
Lips
Catch
Snowflake
Sky
Town
Cooked
Taste
Red
Devastating
Small
Mouth
Stretch
Home
Apart
Tempted
Would
Towns
Ashes
Scorched
Time
Tongue
German
Snowflakes

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Have faith, Ed, all right?' I search the coffee mug, but there's none in there.
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It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.
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It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.
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July 24, 6:03 A.M. The laundry was warm and the rafters were firm, and Michael Holzapfel jumped from the chair as if it were a cliff... Michael Holzapfel knew what he was doing. He killed himself for wanting to live.
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I love and hate this place because it is full of words.
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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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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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...to swear with a ferocity that can only be described as a talent.
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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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I'm asking you, I'm begging you, could you please shut your mouth for just five minutes? You can imagine the reaction. They ended up in the basement.
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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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The Gunman is useless. I know it. He knows it. The whole bank knows it.
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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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Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.
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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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The question is what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?
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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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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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We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.
Markus Zusak