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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.
Markus Zusak
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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Hand
Stood
Jagged
Practice
Jewish
Breathed
Words
Jew
Childlike
Girl
Hidden
Slept
Hands
Shoulders
Stairs
Looked
Lungs
Sweet
Shoulder
Scrawled
Wall
German
Magnificently
More quotes by Markus Zusak
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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July 24, 6:03 A.M. The laundry was warm and the rafters were firm, and Michael Holzapfel jumped from the chair as if it were a cliff... Michael Holzapfel knew what he was doing. He killed himself for wanting to live.
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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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Of course you're real-like any thought or any story. It's real when you're in it.
Markus Zusak
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.
Markus Zusak
The nightmares arrived like they always did, much like the best player in the opposition when you've heard rumors that he might be injured or sick-but there he is, warming up with the rest of them, ready to take the field.
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You don't shoot a dog when it is already dead.
Markus Zusak
The paper landed on the table, but the news was stapled to his chest. A tattoo.
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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 hunted by humans.
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The bittersweetness of uncertainty: To win or to lose.
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I certainly wasn't born with creative writing. Maybe there's a certain amount of learning and then it's up to the person. I think in the end it's your favourite books that are the best teachers. That's the way I've learned the most, by far.
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...to swear with a ferocity that can only be described as a talent.
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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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I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.
Markus Zusak
Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction.
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It's a lot easier, she realized, to be on the verge of something than to actually be it. This would still take time.
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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.
Markus Zusak
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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The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.
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