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If you ever write a book, I can only give you one piece of advice. Don't let your parents get involved.

Markus Zusak

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Markus Zusak
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Give
Ever
Piece
Book
Advice
Giving
Parents
Writing
Pieces
Involved
Parent
Write

More quotes by Markus Zusak

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You see, to me, for just a moment, despite all of the colors that touch and grapple with what I see in this world, I will often catch an eclipse when a human dies. I've seen millions of them. I've seen more eclipses than I care to remember
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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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If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.
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I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.
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Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?
Markus Zusak
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...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.
Markus Zusak
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The best word shakers were the ones who understood the true power of words. They were the ones who could climb the highest. One such word shaker was a small, skinny girl. She was renowned as the best word shaker of her region because she knew how powerless a person could be WITHOUT words.
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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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The impoverished always try to keep moving, as if relocating might help. They ignore the reality that a new version of the same old problem will be waiting at the end of the trip- the relative you cringe to kiss.
Markus Zusak
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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.
Markus Zusak
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I think she ate a salad and some soup. And loneliness. She ate that, too.
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July 24, 6:03 A.M. The laundry was warm and the rafters were firm, and Michael Holzapfel jumped from the chair as if it were a cliff... Michael Holzapfel knew what he was doing. He killed himself for wanting to live.
Markus Zusak
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THE LAST WORDS OF MAX VANDENBURG: You've done enough.
Markus Zusak
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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.
Markus Zusak
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A REASSURING ANNOUNCEMENT Please, be calm, despite that previous threat. I am all bluster - I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result.
Markus Zusak
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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.
Markus Zusak
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The bittersweetness of uncertainty: To win or to lose.
Markus Zusak
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As she watched all of this, Liesel was certain that these were the poorest souls alive. That's what she wrote about them . . . Some looked appealingly at those who had come to observe their humiliation, this prelude to their deaths. Others pleaded for someone, anyone to step forward and catch them in their arms. No one did.
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The question is what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?
Markus Zusak
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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.
Markus Zusak