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You don't shoot a dog when it is already dead.
Markus Zusak
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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Shoot
Dog
Already
Dead
More quotes by Markus Zusak
The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.
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It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.
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I'm having bigger problems when I'm writing.
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Around us I can sniff out a savagery in the noisy southern air. It knifes it's way into my nose, but I do not bleed blood. It's fear I bleed, and it gushes out over my lip. I wipe it away, in a hurry.
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Make sure you live,' she said. 'As decent as you can. I know you'll make mistakes, but sometimes you're meant to, okay?
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If you ever write a book, I can only give you one piece of advice. Don't let your parents get involved.
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I look at her wish we could go inside and make love on the couch. Dive inside each other. Take each other. Make each other. Nothing happens, though.
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I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.
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You can't eat books, sweetheart.
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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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The best word shakers were the ones who understood the true power of words. They were the ones who could climb the highest. One such word shaker was a small, skinny girl. She was renowned as the best word shaker of her region because she knew how powerless a person could be WITHOUT words.
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You can do anything when it's not real.
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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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People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.
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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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How about a kiss, Saumensch?
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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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Please, trust me, I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.
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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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