Quotes from Markus Zusak

MICHAEL HOLTZAPFEL— * * * THE LAST GOODBYE Dear Mama, Can you ever forgive me? I just couldn't stand it any longer. I'm meeting Robert. I don't care what the damn Catholics say about it. There must be a place in heaven for those who have been where I have been. You might think I don't love you because of what I've done, but I do. Your Michael

She waited for the suffocation of sleep.

No quiere amarme pero tampoco quiere perderme.

Sure, she loved horses, she enjoyed racing, but she abhorred the racing business; its wastage, its overbreeding. Its greedy girth of underbelly. It was something like a beautiful whore, and she'd seen it devoid of make-up.

Quiero palabras en mi entierro. Aunque imagino que eso significa que necesitas vida en tu vida.

The dilemma, of course, was the communism. A single great idea. A thousand limits and flaws. Growing up, Penelope never noticed. What child ever does? There was nothing to compare it to.

He would suffer before he'd belong, unable to show himself easily; a preference for greater hope—to find someone who would know him completely.

Stealing is what the army does. Taking your father, and mine.

It felt as though the whole globe was dressed in snow. Like it had pulled it on, the way you pull on a sweater.

Suzanne trabaja media jornada. Odia a su padre. Y se odia a sí misma por no plantarle cara. Se lamenta de todo. —Pero adoro a Melinda —dice—. Es el toque de belleza en medio de tanta fealdad.

Tenía lo que llamaba un pequeño surtido de herramientas: Un libro pintado. Un puñado de lápices. Una cabeza llena de ideas. Como si fueran piezas de un puzzle, empezó a encajarlas.

Burning words were torn from their sentences.

She often wished she was pale enough to disappear altogether.

Sé lo que tengo que darle a Audrey. Audrey no ama a nadie. Se niega a amar. Pero lo necesita, necesita permitírselo aunque solo sea un momento. Necesita vivir ese sentimiento. Conocerlo plenamente. Al menos una vez.

I walk out into the foyer. It's caked in sunshine.

He venido —susurro— por ti.

I actually feel quite self-indulgent at the moment, telling you all about me, me, me. (...) On the other hand, you're a human -you should understand self obsession.

You bastards, she said. You lovely bastards.

Puedo oler el sexo en ella, y solo deseo que ella pueda oler el amor en mí.

First the colors. Then the humans. That's usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try. ***HERE IS A SMALL FACT*** You are going to die.

You could see how hard he loved her. His heart was so obliterated, but he found the will to work it. He was tired, so tired, in the porch light. Just bits-and-pieces of a man.

Ha dejado que la ame durante tres minutos. «¿Pueden tres minutos durar eternamente?», me pregunto pese a conocer la respuesta. «Probablemente no —contesto—. Pero tal vez duren lo suficiente.»

I however, try to enjoy every color I see the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavors, none of them quite the same.

I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant. None of those things, however, came out of my mouth. All I was able to do was turn to Liesel Meminger and tell her the only truth I truly know. I said it to the book thief and I say it now to you. A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR I am haunted by humans.