Quotes from Markus Zusak

They were all placed on a conveyor belt and run through a rampant machine that gave them a lifetime in ten minutes. Words were fed into them. Time disappeared and they now knew everything they needed to know. They were hypnotized.

Personally, I think sex should be like math. At school. No one really cares if they're crap at math. They even proclaim it. They'll say to anyone, "Yeah, I don't mind science and English, but I'm absolutely shithouse at math." And other people will laugh and say, "Yeah, me, too. I wouldn't have a clue about all that logarithm shit." You should be able to say that about sex, too.

I'm pretty much just hoping to live decent. I hope that's enough.

She did not produce it easily, but when it came, she had a starving smile.

We used to languish when we walked, or sidle down the street like dogs that have just done something wrong. Now Rube walks upright, because he's on the attack.

She was renowned as the best word shaker of her region because she knew how powerless a person could be WITHOUT words. That's why she could climb higher than anyone else. She had desire. She was hungry for them.

the moon was sewn into the sky that night. Clouds were stitched around it.

People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment.

Det enda jag hör efter det är min egna andhämtning och ljudet av lukten, av mina egna steg

If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter and bread with only the scent of jam spread on top of it.

Me temo que nada finaliza realmente cuando llega el fin. Los recuerdos permanecen mientras son capaces de blandir su espada y encontrar un punto blando en la mente para hacer un tajo y penetrar en ella.

Her hair was a close enough brand of German blond, but she had dangerous eyes. Dark brown.

For most of the journey, he made his way through the book,trying never to look up. The words lolled in his mouth as he read them. Strangely, as he turned the pages and progressed through the chapters, it was only two words he ever tasted. Mein Kampf. My struggle- The title, over and over again, as the train prattled on, from one German town to the next. Mein Kampf. Of all the things to save him.

they were able to see the pink bars of light on the snowy banks of Himmel Street's rooftops. "Look at the colors," Papa said. It's hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.

THE FILES OF RECOLLECTION* * * Oh, yes, I definitely remember him The sky was murky and deep like quicksand. There was a young man parceled up in barbed wire, like a giant crown of thorns. I untangled him and carried him out. High above the earth, we sank together, to our knees. It was just another day, 1918.

The crowd was itself. There was no swaying it, squeezing through or reasoning with it. You breathed with it and you sang its songs. You waited for its fire.

White is without question a color, and personally, I don't think you want to argue with me.

Sometimes you go to the wrong place, but the right way comes and finds you.

So many colors. They keep triggering inside me. They harstinker my memory. I see them tall in their heaps, all mounted on top of each other. There is air like plastic, a horizon like setting glue. There are skies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking, and there are soft, coal-colored clouds, beating like black hearts. And then. There is death. Making his way through all of it. On the surface: unflappable, unwavering. Below: unnerved, untied, and undone.

Keeping your nose clean while an entire system broke down around you guaranteed only that you would survive longer, not that you would survive.

On her birthday, it was she who gave a gift - to me. It makes me understand that the best standover man I've ever known is not a man at all...

He tasted dusty and sweet. He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection.

It was the best time of her life. But it was bombing carpet. Make no mistake. Bold and bright, a trilogy of happiness would continue for summer's duration and into autumn. It would then be brought abruptly to an end, for the brightness had shown suffering the way.

I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.