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I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Belongs
Anymore
Realize
Realizing
Everything
Nothing

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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The injury of words. Yes, the brutality of words.
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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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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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..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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Often I wish this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.
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A fighter can be a winner, but that doesn't make a winner a fighter.
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Liesel's blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled. She almost broke into pieces on the steps.
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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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Fear is shiny. Ruthless in the eyes.
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Each night, Liesel would step outside, wipe the door, and watch the sky. Usually it was like spillage - cold and heavy, slippery and gray - but once in a while some stars had the nerve to rise and float, if only for a few minutes. On those nights, she would stay a little longer and wait. Hello, stars.
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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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The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs.
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an expression of surprise falls from her face, though she's trying to keep it. it breaks off and she seems to catch it and fidget with it in her hands.
Markus Zusak
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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.
Markus Zusak
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The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.
Markus Zusak
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Can a person steal happiness? Or is just another internal, infernal human trick?
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Five hundred souls. I carried them in my fingers, like suitcases. Or I'd throw them over my shoulder. It was only the the children I carried in my arms.
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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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He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.
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I am hunted by humans.
Markus Zusak