Quote

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.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Make
Please
Paragraphs
Good
Full
Bastards
Love
Age
Eyed
Think
Happy
Paragraph
Thinking
Words
Belly
Thought
Fill
Brewed
Come
Lovely
Brims
Something
Pages
Bellies

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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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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The flyscreen door slammed behind me. My feet dragged. I reached each arm into the jacket. Warm sleeves. Crumpled collar. Hands in pockets. Okay. I walked.
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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 read some books that were the right books for me. I read them and I didn't even notice turning the pages anymore. I thought, That's what I want to do with my life.
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Outside is dark. The kitchen light is loud. It deafens me as I walk towards it.
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Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.
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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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..As always, she was carrying the washing. Rudy was carrying two buckets of cold water, or as he put it, two buckets of future ice.
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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 should give it to Max, Liesel. See if you can leave it on the bedside table, like all the other things. Liesel watched him as if he'd gone insane. How, though? Lightly, he tapped her skull with his knuckles. Memorize it. Then write it down for him.
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If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.
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Personally, I like a chocolate-colored sky, dark, dark chocolate.
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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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She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.
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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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… 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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They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thin, incessantly: 'Get it done, get it done.' So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more.
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If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.
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It's a lot easier, she realized, to be on the verge of something than to actually be it. This would still take time.
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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