Quote

Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Dead
Maybe
Morning
Sheets
Lying
Wake
Back
Step
Look
Outside
Looks
Among
Steps

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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You’re a human, you should understand self-obsession.
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You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.
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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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For a moment, I panic. It's that feeling of falling when you know without question, that you've lost control of your car, or made a mistake that's beyond repair. 'What do I do now?' I ask desperately. 'Tell me! What do I do now?' He remains calm. He looks at me closely and says, 'Keep living, Ed... It's only the pages that stop here.
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I'm not one of these 'the characters write themselves the story just fell out of me' kind of writers. Wish it was like that.
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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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I always marvel at the humans' ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces.
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He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.
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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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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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Please, trust me, I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.
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I guess that’s the beauty of books. When they finish they don’t really finish.
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The injury of words. Yes, the brutality of words.
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You can do anything when it's not real. When it is real, nothing breaks your fall. Nothing gets between you and the ground.
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I guess when someone tells you something they they usually guard, you feel privileged, not because you know something no-one else knows, but because you feel chosen. You feel like that person wants her life to intersect with yours. I think that's what felt best about it.
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The flyscreen door slammed behind me. My feet dragged. I reached each arm into the jacket. Warm sleeves. Crumpled collar. Hands in pockets. Okay. I walked.
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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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Soon evening worked its way into the sky, and the city hunched itself down.
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Everything was good. But it was awful, too.
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I even move out onto the front porch and see my own limited view of the world. I want to take that world, and for the first time ever, I feel like I can do it. I’ve survived everything I’ve had to so far. I’m still standing here.
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