Quotes from Markus Zusak

Our footsteps run, and I don't want them to end. I want to run and laugh and feel like this forever. I want to avoid any awkward moment when the realness of reality sticks its fork into our flesh, leaving us standing there, together. I want to stay here, in this moment, and never go to other places, where we don't know what to say or what to do.

Have you ever noticed that idiots have a lot of friends? It's just an observation.

So many humans. So many colors.

He killed himself for wanting to live.

And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me.

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.

Liesel's blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled. She almost broke into pieces on the steps.

I had to decide what I was going to do, and what I was going to be. I was standing there, waiting for someone to do something , till I realised the person I was waiting for was myself.

Grimly, she realized that clocks don't make a sound that even remotely resembles ticking, tocking. It was more the sound of a hammer, upside down, hacking methodically at the earth. It was the sound of a grave.

It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.

The day was gray, the color of Europe.

Each night, Liesel would step outside, wipe the door, and watch the sky. Usually it was like spillage - cold and heavy, slippery and gray - but once in a while some stars had the nerve to rise and float, if only for a few minutes. On those nights, she would stay a little longer and wait. Hello, stars.

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. It was the best time of her life.

We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.

Competence was attractive.

When her hands reached out and poured the tea, it was as if she also poured something into me while I sat there sweating in my cab. It was like she held a string and pulled on it just slightly to open me up. She got in, put a piece of herself inside me, and left again.

I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.

I guess that's the beauty of books. When they finish they don't really finish.

Why can't the world hear? I ask myself. Within a few moments I ask it many times. Because it doesn't care, I finally answer, and I know I'm right. It's like I've been chosen. But chosen for what? I ask.

Why me?' I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

The point is, Ilsa Hermann had decided to make suffering her triumph. When it refused to let go of her, she succumbed to it. She embraced it.

You might well ask just what the hell he was thinking. The answer is, probably nothing at all.He'd probably say he was exercising his God-given right to stupidity.

The Gunman is useless. I know it. He knows it. The whole bank knows it.

No, I'm not a saint, Sophie. I'm just another stupid human.