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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.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Find
Tryin
Without
Clearly
Heart
Brother
Lose
Says
Loses
Answers
Moving

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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Liesel crossed the bridge over the Amper River. The water was glorious and emerald and rich. She could see the stones at the bottom and hear the familiar song of water. The world did not deserve such a river.
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How do you tell if something's alive? You check for breathing.
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You’re a human, you should understand self-obsession.
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How'd it feel? Rube asked himself. I don't know exactly, but it made me want to howl.
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There were stars. They burned my eyes.
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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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I'm not a writer who refuses to talk about a book until I've finished.
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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 guess that’s the beauty of books. When they finish they don’t really finish.
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Only hearts... They're in the inside of the inside of me.
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Tears were frozen to the book theif's face.
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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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It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.
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When she faced the noise, she found the mayor’s wife in a brand-new bathrobe and slippers. On the breast pocket of the robe sat an embroidered swastika. Propaganda even reached the bathroom.
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Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn't ever appear to be breathing.
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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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I only know that all of those people would have sensed me that night, excluding the youngest of the children. I was the suggestion. I was the advice, my imagined feet walking into the kitchen and down the corridor.
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The conversation of bullets.
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The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.
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I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.
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