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It is early, early morning. It's that time when it's still dark but you know the day is coming. Blue is bleeding through black. Stars are dying.
Markus Zusak
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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Morning
Dark
Black
Bleeding
Stills
Blue
Still
Early
Time
Dying
Coming
Stars
More quotes by Markus Zusak
A fighter can be a winner, but that doesn't make a winner a fighter.
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She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.
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The Gunman is useless. I know it. He knows it. The whole bank knows it.
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Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?
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The last time I saw her was red. The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places, it was burned. There were black crumbs, and pepper, streaked across the redness.
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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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It's about glowing lights and small things that are big.
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Very suddenly. Yes, quite suddenly, I didn't feel like I could handle my feeling of aloneness.
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Of course you're real-like any thought or any story. It's real when you're in it.
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I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her. Nothing, however, exits my mouth. How well do we really let ourselves know each other? There's a long quietness until I finally break it open. It reminds me of someone breaking bread and handing it out. In my case, I hand out a question to my friend.
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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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The impoverished always try to keep moving, as if relocating might help. They ignore the reality that a new version of the same old problem will be waiting at the end of the trip- the relative you cringe to kiss.
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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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The conversation of bullets.
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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.
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I had to decide what I was going to do, and what I was going to be. I was standing there, waiting for someone to do something , till I realised the person I was waiting for was myself.
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I'm asking you, I'm begging you, could you please shut your mouth for just five minutes? You can imagine the reaction. They ended up in the basement.
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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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Can a person steal happiness? Or is just another internal, infernal human trick?
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The night is alive with stars, and when I lie down and look up, I get lost up there. I feel like I’m falling, but upward, into the abyss of sky above me.
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