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But for now, happiness throws stones. It guards itself. I wait.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Guards
Throws
Stones
Wait
Waiting
Happiness

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I try hard and aim big. People can hate or love my books but they can never accuse me of not trying.
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I just know that right now, we want to be proud. For once. We want to take the struggle and rise above it. We want to frame it, live it, survive it. We want to put it in our mouths and taste it and never forget it, because it makes us strong.
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I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.
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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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She looks at the swings, and I can see she’s imagining what they’d look like if the kids weren’t there. The guilt of this holds her down momentarily. It appears to be there constantly. Never far away, despite her love for them. I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.
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An attribute of Rosa Hubermann, she was a good woman for a crisis.
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If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.
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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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Even enemies were an inch away from friendship.
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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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People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.
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Personally, I like a chocolate-colored sky, dark, dark chocolate.
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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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Of course you're real-like any thought or any story. It's real when you're in it.
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Competence was attractive.
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The day was gray, the color of Europe.
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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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You can't eat books, sweetheart.
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I had many boxing matches with my brother in the backyard when we were younger, and I guess while other people abhor boxing for its brutality, I also have to admire anyone who climbs into the ring to face up to what could be the ultimate defeat.
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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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