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When death captures me, the boy vowed, he will feel my fist in his face. (31.26)

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Boys
Face
Faces
Death
Vowed
Book
Captures
Feel
Fist
Feels
Fists
Capture

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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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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I say, 'Don't lose your heart, Rube.' And very clearly, without moving, my brother answers me. He says, 'I'm not tryin' to lose it, Cam. I'm tryin' to find it.
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But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?
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The point is, Ilsa Hermann had decided to make suffering her triumph. When it refused to let go of her, she succumbed to it. She embraced it.
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I don't really know that this story has a whole lot of things happen in it. It doesn't really. It's just a record of how things were in my life during this last winter. I guess things happened, but nothing out of the ordinary.
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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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He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... It was a nation of farmed thoughts.
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There were not many people who could say that their education had been paid for with cigarettes.
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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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His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come. Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.
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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.
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Yes, I'm often reminded of her, and in one of my array of pockets, I have kept her story to retell. It is one of the small legion I carry, each one extraordinary in its own right. Each one an attempt - an immense leap of an attempt - to prove to me that you, and your human existence, are worth it.
Markus Zusak
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A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)
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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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When I was growing up, I wanted to be a house painter like my father, but I was always screwing up when I went to work with him. I had a talent for knocking over paint and painting myself into corners. I also realized fairly quickly that painting bored me.
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Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.
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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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I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I ever simply estimate it.
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When a person's last response was Saumensch or Saukerl or Arschloch, you knew you had them beaten.
Markus Zusak
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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.
Markus Zusak