Quotes from Markus Zusak

She was lost in pine and mountainside, her knuckles bony white.

In the tree shadows, Liesel watched the boy. How things had changed, from fruit stealer to bread giver. His blond hair, although darkening, was like a candle. She heard his stomach growl - and he was giving people bread. Was this Germany? Was this Nazi Germany?

The violence interferes. It sticks its fingers into everything and tears it open. It all comes apart, and I loath myself for waiting this long to end it. I despise myself for taking the easy options night after night. A hatred is wound up and let go in me. It hacks at my spirit and brings it to its knees, next to me. It coughs and suffocates me as my own hatred for myself becomes overwhelming.

a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.

A family of ramshackle tragedy. A comic book kapow of boys and blood and beasts. We were born for relics like these.

As for me, I remained a few moments longer. I waved. No one waved back.

Ignoraba que las palabras pudieran pesar tanto.

I love the laughter of this night. Our footsteps run, and I don't want them to end. I want to run and laugh and feel like this forever. I want to avoid any awkward moment when the realness of reality sticks its fork into our flesh, leaving us standing there, together. I want to stay here, in this moment, and never go to other places, where we don't know what to say or what to do. For now, just let us run. We run straight through the laughter of the night.

The flyscreen door is torn at the edges. Fraying. I open it and knock on the wood. The sound rhymes with my heartbeat.

You know,' she begins, 'you fellas ought to be looking after each other.' Her comment makes me realise that through the lies, the greatest irony is that we are looking out for each other. It's just that in the end, we're letting her down. That's what injures us.

Outside, the world whistled. The rain was stained.

How do you give someone a piece of sky?

The only sound I'll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the smell, of my footsteps

Feuer soll'n's brunzen fur einen Monat!' she heard her call out. Translation: 'They should all piss fire for a month!

sometimes I think that maybe we're not really people at all. Maybe moments are what we are. Moments of weakness, of strength. Moments of rescue, of everything.

caughtoutedness.

Sözlükte bulunmayan bir tan?m; Gitmemek: S?k s?k çocuklar taraf?ndan fark edilen bir güven ve sevgi eylemi.

We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.

When death tells a story yo really have to listen

That's the sort of thing I'll never know, or comprehend __ what humans are capable of.

The point is, it didn't really matter what that book was about. It was what it meant to her that was more important.

I let the front door slam shut behind me and the fly screen rattle. It was as if each door was kicking me out of the old life I'd lived in that house. I was being thrown out into the world, new. The broken, leaning gate creaked open, let me out, and I gently placed it shut. I was gone, and from down the street, maybe fifty yards away, I looked back for a second at the house where I lived. It wasn't the same any more. It never would be. I kept walking.

We all have our duties here. We all suffer. We all endure our setbacks for the greater good of mankind.

Mi nombre completo es Ed Kennedy. Tengo diecinueve años. Soy taxista menor de edad. Soy uno más de los muchos jóvenes que se ven en este pueblo próximo a la ciudad, sin demasiadas perspectivas ni posibilidades. Aparte de eso, leo más libros de los que debería, soy pésimo en la cama y un desastre haciendo la declaración de la renta. Encantado de conoceros.