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
Looks
Among
Steps
Dead
Maybe
Morning
Sheets
Lying
Wake
Back
Step
Look
Outside

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.
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The first couple of times, he simply stayed - a stranger to kill the aloneness. A few nights after that, he whispered “Shhh, I’m here, its alright.” After three weeks, he held her. Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man’s gentleness, his thereness.
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It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them
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When a person's last response was Saumensch or Saukerl or Arschloch, you knew you had them beaten.
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I think 'The Lord Of The Rings' is the mother of all cult books, because you can be in that cult and not even know you're in it.
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If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.
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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.
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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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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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… it was raining on Himmel Street when the world ended for Liesel Meminger. The sky was dripping. Like a tap that a child has tried its hardest to turn off but hasn’t quite managed.
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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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I read some books that were the right books for me. I read them and I didn't even notice turning the pages anymore. I thought, That's what I want to do with my life.
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She didn't dare to look up, but she could feel their frightened eyes hanging onto her as she hauled the words in and breathed them out. A voice played the notes inside her. This, it said, is your accordion.
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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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She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.
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Tears were frozen to the book theif's face.
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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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How do you tell if something's alive? You check for breathing.
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But neither of us knows, because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it.
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You don't always get what you wish for. Especially in Nazi Germany
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