Stealing it, in a sick kind of sense, was like earning it. by Markus Zusak

Stealing it, in a sick kind of sense, was like earning it.

Markus Zusak

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Categorized in : Kind Sick Earning It

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.

grief wish hands

Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die. by Markus Zusak

Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.

good-sense humans heart

Her teeth were like a soccer crowd, crammed in. by Markus Zusak

Her teeth were like a soccer crowd, crammed in.

crowds teeth soccer

Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. "I'm okay" we say. "I'm alright". But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can't get it off. That's when you realize that sometimes it isn't even an answer--it's a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.

truth answers believe

in the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy be... by Markus Zusak

in the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears.

afternoon bread tree

The Germans in basements were pitiable, surely, but at least they had a chance. That basement was not a washroom. They were not sent there for a shower. For those people, life was still achievable.

showers chance people

It kills me sometimes, how people die. by Markus Zusak

It kills me sometimes, how people die.

sometimes death people

Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they sa... by Markus Zusak

Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.

friends birthday life

It’s a small story really, about, among other things: * A girl * Some words * An accordionist * Some fanatical Germans * A Jewish fist fighter * And quite a lot of thievery

girl fists stories

How'd it feel?" Rube asked himself. "I don't know exactly, but it... by Markus Zusak

How'd it feel?" Rube asked himself. "I don't know exactly, but it made me want to howl.

howl made want

After another ten minutes, the gates of thievery would open just a crack, and Liesel Meminger would widen them a little further and squeeze through. TWO QUESTIONS Would the gates shut behind her? Or would they have the goodwill to let her back out? As Liesel would discover, a good thief requires many things. Stealth. Nerve. Speed. More important than any of those things, however, was one final requirement. Luck. Actually. Forget the ten minutes. The gates open now.

luck important two

In years to come, he would be a giver of bread, not a stealer - proof again of the contradictory human being. So much good, so much evil. Just add water.

evil water years

I can promise you that the world is a factory. The sun stirs it, the humans rule it. And I remain. I carry them away.- spoken by death

sun promise world

Competence was attractive. by Markus Zusak

Competence was attractive.

attractive competence

I..." He struggled to answer. "When everything was quiet, I went up to the corridor and the curtain in the livingroom was open just a crack... I could see outside. I watched, only for a few seconds." He had not seen the outside world for twenty-two months. There was no anger or reproach. It was Papa who spoke. How did it look?" Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment. "There were stars," he said. "They burned by eyes.

stars eye two

She kept watching the words. by Markus Zusak

She kept watching the words.

If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.

laughter knowing laughing

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.

triumph suffering letting-go

Of course, I'm being rude. I'm spoiling the ending, not only of the entire book, but of this particular piece of it. I have given you two events in advance, because I don't have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me. There are many things to think of. There is much story.

two book thinking

I’m Angelina,” she says. “Are you here to save us?” I can see a tiny spark of hope awaken in her eyes. “You’re right, Angelina - I’m here to save you.” “Can you? Really?” “I’ll try,” I say and the girl smiles.

girl eye trying