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I don't really know that this story has a whole lot of things happen in it. It doesn't really. It's just a record of how things were in my life during this last winter. I guess things happened, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 50
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Things
Lasts
Winter
Life
Last
Guess
Doesn
Record
Happens
Ordinary
Stories
Records
Nothing
Happen
Whole
Happened
Really
Story

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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Often I wish this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.
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Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.
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I watch the beauty for as long as I can, then turn and face the rest of it.
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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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I love and hate this place because it is full of words.
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Even death has a heart.
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It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.
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There was once a strange, small man. He decided three important details about his life: 1. He would part his hair from the opposite side to everyone else. 2. He would make himself a small, strange mustache. 3. He would one day rule the world. ...Yes, the Fuhrer decided that he would rule the world with words.
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She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.
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As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning.
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She was a girl with a mountain to climb.
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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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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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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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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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How do you tell if something's alive? You check for breathing.
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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 want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.
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Because you don't learn anything unless you can find the patience to read. TV takes that away from you. It robs you from your mind.
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It's insane to be a writer and not be a reader. When I'm writing I'm more likely to be reading four or five books at once, just in bits and pieces rather than subjecting myself to a really brilliant book and thinking, Well what's the point of me writing anything? I'm more likely to read a book through when I take a break from writing.
Markus Zusak