Only hearts... They're in the inside of the inside of me. Markus Zusak More Quotes by Markus Zusak More Quotes From Markus Zusak A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH I do not carry a sickle or scythe. I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold. And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue. Markus Zusak distanceskullsmirrors She rubbed her eyes, and after a long study of his face, she spoke "Is it really you?" Is it from your cheek, she thought, that I took the seed? The man nodded. His heart wobbled and he held tighter to the branches. It is. Markus Zusak eyeheartmen It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way. Markus Zusak perfectnighthands 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. Markus Zusak armsalivesoul She was saying goodbye and she didn't even know it. Markus Zusak saying-goodbyeknowsgoodbye When her hands reached out and poured the tea, it was as if she also poured something into me while I sat there sweating in my cab. It was like she held a string and pulled on it just slightly to open me up. She got in, put a piece of herself inside me, and left again. Markus Zusak piecesteahands 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. Markus Zusak slipperswifenoise Do we spend most of our days trying to remember or to forget? Do we spend most of our time running towards or away from our lives? Markus Zusak runningremembertrying At first, she could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? Markus Zusak feltfirsts 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. Markus Zusak tryingbelievecommitment I want to talk to him. I want to ask him about that girl and if he loved her and still misses her. Nothing, however, exits my mouth. How well do we really let ourselves know each other? There's a long quietness until I finally break it open. It reminds me of someone breaking bread and handing it out. In my case, I hand out a question to my friend. Markus Zusak girllonghands Liesel shrugged away entirely from the crowd and entered the tide of Jews, weaving through them till she grabbed hold of his arm with her left hand. His face fell on her. It reached down as she tripped, and the Jew,the nasty Jew, helped her up. It took all of his strength. Markus Zusak left-handcrowdshands Goodbye, Papa, you saved me. You taught me to read. No one can play like you. I'll never drink champagne. No one can play like you." -Liesel Markus Zusak papaplaygoodbye They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thin, incessantly: 'Get it done, get it done.' So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more. Markus Zusak viewsjobswar There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it were empty. Markus Zusak city-streetscitiespeople There are so many moments to remember and sometimes I think that maybe we're not really people at all. Maybe moments are what we are.... Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more. Markus Zusak rooftopspeoplethinking It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them Markus Zusak colorspeakmen ***A Last note from your narrator*** I am haunted by humans. Markus Zusak narratorsnoteslasts It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else. Markus Zusak peoplethinking The last time I saw her was red. The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places, it was burned. There were black crumbs, and pepper, streaked across the redness. Markus Zusak blacksoupsky
