Quotes from Markus Zusak

The soft-spoken words fell off the side of the bed, emptying onto the floor like powder.

I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get.

Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. The girl knew from the outset that Hans Hubermann would always appear midscream, and he would not leave.

Quietly, he walked towards it with the matchbox in one hand, the candle in the other.

Still in disbelief, she started to dig. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead. He couldnt- Within seconds, snow was carved into her skin. Frozen blood was cracked across her hands. Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces. Each half was glowing, and beating under all that white.

The juggling comes to an end now, but the struggling does not. I have Liesel Meminger in one hand, Max Vandenburg in the other. Soon, I will clap them together. Just give me a few pages. The

I don't believe this, Sister Maria muttered. It can't be, because sure enough, when Liesel stepped forward and presented her hands, Ludwig Schmeikl was all over them, rusting by the moment.

Si domandò quando esattamente i libri e le parole avessero incominciato a significare non solamente qualcosa, ma tutto.

She leaned down and looked at his lifeless face and Liesel kissed her best friend Rudy Steiner soft and true on his lips. He tasted dusty and sweet. He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection.

The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugliness and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.

People observe the colours of a day only at its beginnings and ends

I most definitely can be cheerful. 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.

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. Still, they have one thing I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.

It was a tradition for Frau Holtzapfel, one of their neighbors, to spit on the Hubermanns' door every time she walked past. The front door was only meters from the gate, and let's just say that Frau Holtzapfel had the distance—and the accuracy.

I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both

With the curtains clamped tight, he would sleep on the floor with a cushion beneath his head, as the fire slipped away and turned to ash. In the morning, he would return to the basement. A voiceless human. The Jewish rat, back to his hole.

They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible.

I wonder if she'll ever know that no one will love her as hard as I do.

When their bodies had finished scouring for gaps in the door, their souls rose up. Their fingernails had scratched at the wood and in some cases were nailed into it by the sheer force of desperation, and their spirits came towards me, into my arms.

Un pequeño detalle: Morirás.

It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true— big things are often just small things that are noticed.

She was holding desperately on to the words who had saved her life.

I am all bluster— I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result. -Death

fact, you could say that Rosa Hubermann had a face decorated with constant fury. That was how the creases were made in the cardboard texture of her complexion.