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We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Waiting
Idle
Girl
Remind
Beautiful
Till
Older
Silent
Waste
Conversation
Chitchat
Therefore
Initiate

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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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I had many boxing matches with my brother in the backyard when we were younger, and I guess while other people abhor boxing for its brutality, I also have to admire anyone who climbs into the ring to face up to what could be the ultimate defeat.
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Liesel shrugged away entirely from the crowd and entered the tide of Jews, weaving through them till she grabbed hold of his arm with her left hand. His face fell on her. It reached down as she tripped, and the Jew,the nasty Jew, helped her up. It took all of his strength.
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You can do anything when it's not real.
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It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.
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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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There are moments when you can only stand and stare, watching the world forget you as you remove yourself from it - when you overcome it and cease to exist as the person you were.
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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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My voice is like a rumour. I'm not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.
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Fear is shiny. Ruthless in the eyes.
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How do you tell if something's alive? You check for breathing.
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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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Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.
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The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole. . .
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Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. (p.36)
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As a child in Sydney, my German Mum and my Austrian Dad would spontaneously tell me stories about what they saw and what they did as children. It was like a piece of Europe coming into our house... Those stories led me to my writing.
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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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The conversation of bullets.
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