Quotes from Markus Zusak

It was a place nobody wanted to stay and look at, but almost everyone did. Shaped like a long, broken arm, the road contained several houses with lacerated windows and bruised walls. The Star of David was painted on their doors. Those houses were almost like lepers. At the very least, they were infected sores on the injured German terrain.

Cuéntame, Jimmy —dice. El temblor de las manos aumenta—. ¿Dónde has estado todo este tiempo? —Su voz es angustiada pero dulce —. ¿Dónde has estado? Tengo algo atascado en la garganta. Son las palabras. Finalmente las reconozco y digo: —He estado buscándote.

No, Sophie, no soy un santo. Solo otro estúpido ser humano.

Me doy cuenta de que nada le pertenece ya y que ella pertenece a todo.

The color of defeat chokes her pupils, even though her nod and smile and uncomfortable sitting motion on the couch indicate that she is not finished yet. She will carry on, like all of us. Smile stubborn. Smile with instinct, then lick your wounds in the darkest of corners. Trace the scars back to your own fingers and remember them.

Highlight: "Arschloch!" Papa yelped. "Liesel, give me some of that snow. A whole bucket!" For a few minutes, they all forgot. There was no more yelling or calling out, but they could not contain the small snatches of laughter. They were only humans, playing in the snow, in a house.

Come on, Max,' she whispered, and even the sound of Mama's arrival at her back did not stop her from silently crying. It didn't stop her from pulling a lump of salt water from her eye and feeding it onto Max Vandenburg's face. Mama took her. Her arms swallowed her. 'I know',she said. She knew.

That paper-- it sits there, open at the employment section. It sits there like a war, and each small advertisement is another trench for a person to dive into. To hope and fight in.

THE BEST word shakers were the ones who understood the true power of words. They are the ones who could climb the highest.

I am stupid Hans Hubermann told his foster daughter And kind, which makes me the biggest idiot in the world.

A fact regarding Max Vandenburg He would search the faces on Munich street for a book-thieving girl.

Si hubiera podido ver arrodillada a la ladrona de libros junto a su cuerpo diezmado, habría gritado de alegría y girado sobre sí mismo y sonreído. Le habría encantado contemplarla besándole los polvorientos labios devastados por las bombas. Sí, lo sé. En la profunda oscuridad de mi corazón de siniestros latidos, lo sé. Le habría gustado, sin duda. ¿Lo ves? Hasta la muerte tiene corazón.

I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.

Marv glaubt an so etwas, und ich weiss, dass ich das nicht geringschaetzen sollte. Es ist, wie es ist.

A small sample of some girl-written words That summer was a new beginning, a new end. When I look back, I remember my slippery hands of paint and the sound of Papa's feet on Munich Street, and I know that a small piece of the summer of 1942 belonged to only one man. Who else would do some paintwork for the price of half a cigarette? That was Papa, that was typical, and I loved him.

For now, the idea was enough. It was indestructible. Transforming it into reality, well, that was something else altogether. For now, though, let's let him enjoy it. We'll give him seven months. Then we come for him. And oh, how we come.

It took three attempts to leave.

The fire was nothing now but a funeral of smoke, dead and dying, simultaneously.

Earlier, I'd held her papa in one arm and her mama in the other. Each soul was so soft.

For a good ten minutes or so we stand there with the flashlight burning the grave with light. The whole time, I'm trying to guess where and exactly how he died and, more to the point, realizing that poor old Milla's been without him for sixty-years. I can tell. No other man has entered her life. Not the way her Jimmy did. She's been waiting sixty years for Jimmy to come back. And now he has.

First and foremost, we want a good clean fight. He adress only yhe Fuhrer now. Unless, of course, Herr Hitler, you begin to lose. Should this occur, I will be quite willing to turn a blind eye to any unconscionable tactics you might employ to grind this piece of Jewish stench and filth into the canvas.

That makes two weeks, she would later write in the basement. Two weeks to change the world, and fourteen days to ruin it.

You might argue that I make the rounds no matter what year it is, but sometimes the human race likes to crank things up a little. They increase the production of bodies and their escaping souls.

Make no mistake, the woman had a heart. She had a bigger one than people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving.