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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.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 50
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Away
Wipe
Around
Nose
Way
Noses
Gushes
Southern
Sniff
Lips
Savagery
Air
Bleed
Blood
Noisy
Fear
Hurry

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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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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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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 only know that all of those people would have sensed me that night, excluding the youngest of the children. I was the suggestion. I was the advice, my imagined feet walking into the kitchen and down the corridor.
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But for now, happiness throws stones. It guards itself. I wait.
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... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.
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Yes, the sky was now a devastating, home-cooked red. The small German town had been flung apart one more time. Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth.
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No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.
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A happening was looming. It was out there somewhere beyond the regular enclosed life that I had been living. It was out there, not waiting, but existing. Being. Perhaps it was only slightly wondering if I would come to it.
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Only hearts... They're in the inside of the inside of me.
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She was a girl with a mountain to climb.
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It's about glowing lights and small things that are big.
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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 s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.
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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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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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The commitment had disappeared, and although he still watched the imagined glory of stealing, she could see now he was not believing. He was trying to believe it, and that’s never a good sign.
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I think she ate a salad and some soup. And loneliness. She ate that, 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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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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