Quotes by Markus Zusak

He switched off the light, came back and sat in the chair. In the darkness, Liesel kept her eyes open. She was watching the words.

Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the mans gentleness, his thereness. (p.36)

DEFINITION NOT FOUND IN THE DICTIONARY Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children

She took a step and didnt want to take any more, but she did.

All four of us were young and undaunted and our smiles were so strong that it made me smile even then on the couch, with a kind of loss.

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.

It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.

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.

Youre a dead man. I hear his voice again, and I see the words on my face when I get back in the cab and look in the rearview mirror.It makes me think of my life, my nonexistent accomplishments and my overall abilities in incompetence.A dead man, I think. Hes not far wrong.

All my friends seem to be smart arses. Dont ask me why. Like many things, it is what it is.

See, I was never a guy who had a whole heap of friends to belong to. Besides Greg Fienni, I never really had friends. I kind of stayed on my own. I hated it, but I was proud of it too. Cameron Wolfe needed no one. He didnt need to be amongst a pack. Not all of us roam like that. No, all he needed was his instincts. All he needed was himself.

Have you ever noticed that idiots have a lot of friends? Its just an observation.

A GUIDED TOUR OF SUFFERING: To your left, perhaps your right, perhaps even straight ahead, you find a small black room. In it sits a Jew. He is scum. He is starving. He is afraid. Please - try not to look away.

Steve, on the other hand, has plenty of friends, but he wouldnt bleed for any of them, because he wouldnt trust them to bleed for him. In that way hes just as alone as me.

When I picked him up originally, the boys spirit was soft and cold, like ice-cream. He started melting in my arms. Then warming up completely. Healing.

Keep going. Youre a mess and youre happy.

The point is, Ilsa Hermann had decided to make suffering her triumph. When it refused to let go of her, she succumbed to it. She embraced it.

It would then be brought abruptly to an end, for the brightness had shown suffering the way.

a young man was hung by a rope made of Stalingrad snow

Ive wandered through the real world, and written myself through the darkness of the streets inside me. I see people walking through the city and wonder where theyve been, and what the moments of their lives have done to them. If theyre anything like me, their moments have held them up and shot them down.Sometimes I just survive.But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.Thats when the stories show up in me.They find me all the time.Theyre made of underdogs and fighters. Theyre made of hunger and desire and trying to live decent.The only trouble is, I dont know which of those stories comes first.Maybe they all just merge into one.Well see, I guess.Ill let you know when I decide.