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Shadows of cloud lurked in the water, like holes the sun forgot about.
Markus Zusak
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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Clouds
Shadow
Sun
Water
Lurked
Like
Forgot
Cloud
Shadows
Holes
More quotes by Markus Zusak
I s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.
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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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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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But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?
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I look at her wish we could go inside and make love on the couch. Dive inside each other. Take each other. Make each other. Nothing happens, though.
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My own eyes try to sleep, but they don't. They stay wide awake as time snarls forward and silence drops down, like measured thought.
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You don't always get what you wish for. Especially in Nazi Germany
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...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.
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The day was gray, the color of Europe.
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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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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.
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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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...to swear with a ferocity that can only be described as a talent.
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Summer came. For the books thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews.
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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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Around us I can sniff out a savagery in the noisy southern air. It knifes it's way into my nose, but I do not bleed blood. It's fear I bleed, and it gushes out over my lip. I wipe it away, in a hurry.
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The bombs were coming-and so was I.
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I think she ate a salad and some soup. And loneliness. She ate that, too.
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You can do all manner of underhanded nice things when you have a caustic reputation.
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The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.
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