Quotes from Markus Zusak

No one's urine smells as good as your own. The

A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH I do not carry a sickle or scythe. I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold. And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.

Herr Vogel from Heide Strasse. "Made all his money from his father. He throws it away on women

Era înalt în pat È™i pot vedea argintul printre genele lui

Once around the

I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.

I walk away, afraid. Afraid because I don't want my own funeral to be that forlorn and empty. I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.

Once, words had rendered Liesel useless, but now… she felt an innate sense of power. It happened every time she deciphered a new word or pieced together a sentence. She was a girl. In Nazi Germany. How fitting that she was discovering the power of words.

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 out on top of it. It was the best time of her

Many jocular comments followed, as did another onslaught of Heil Hitlering. You know, it actually makes me wonder if anyone ever lost an eye or injured a hand or wrist with all of that. You'd only need to be facing the wrong way at the wrong time, or stand marginally too close to another person.

I traveled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity. I watched

The moon was undone now, free to move and rise and fall and drip on the boy's face, making him nice and murky, like his thoughts.

The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this. Without words, the Führer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or wordly tricks to make us feel better.

And it would show me, once again, that one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.

Non è questo posto, penso. Sono le persone. Saremmo stati gli stessi anche altrove. Ovunque.

The question is, what color will everything be at the moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

Sometimes she would whisper the word Mama and see her mother's face a hundred times in a single afternoon.

In bed, she read with Papa, who could tell something was wrong. It was the first time in a month that he'd come in and sat with her, and she was comforted, if only slightly. Somehow, Hans Hubermann always knew what to say, when to stay, and when to leave her be. Perhaps Liesel was the one thing he was a true expert at.

His first plan of attack was to plant the words in as many areas of his homeland as possible. He planted them day and night, and cultivated them. He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... it was a nation of farmed thoughts.

Die Noten wurden in ihrem Atem geboren und starben auf ihren Lippen.

Pronto — disse, jogando uma única bala no balcão. — Misture você. Do lado de fora, eles a desembrulharam e tentaram parti-la ao meio com os dentes, mas o açúcar estava duro feito vidro. Duro demais, até para as presas animalescas de Rudy. Em vez disso, tiveram que alternar chupadelas até a bala acabar. Dez chupadelas para Rudy. Dez para Liesel. Para lá e para cá.

The rot started

So much life- so much to live for- yet somehow, I'm certain he would have loved to see the frightening rubble and the swelling of the sky on the night he passed away.

School, as you might imagine, was a terrific failure. Although