Quotes from Markus Zusak

Clearly,' said Arthur, 'you're an idiot – but you're our kind of idiot. Come on.

A SMALL THEORY People observe the colours of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colours. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.

On the opposite side, the mannequins stood like witnesses. They were serious and ludicrously stylish. It was hard to shake the feeling that they were watching everything.

As far as dispositions go, hers wasn't really enviable, although she had a good record with foster kids in the past.

They tell us to "be ourselves," but if you listen closely, there's more to that sentence: ". . . until you make them uncomfortable.

Odiei as palavras e as amei, e espero tê-las usado direito.

Even inaction is a powerful choice.

The thought of missing it was eased when she found a gap in the bodies and was able to see the mound of guilt, still intact. It was prodded and splashed, even spat on. It reminded her of an unpopular child, forlorn and bewildered, powerless to alter its fate. No one liked it. Head down. Hands in pockets. Forever. Amen.

In the morning's early hours, quiet voices were loud.

The only sign of war was a cloud of dust migrating from east to west. It looked through the windows, trying to find a way inside, and as it simultaneously thickened and spread, it turned the trail of humans into apparitions.

El era al doilea om de z?pad? care se topea sub ochii ei, dar acesta era diferit. Era un paradox. Cu cât devenea mai frig, cu atât mai repede se topea.

When a woman with an iron fist tells you to get out there and clean spit off the door, you do it. Especially when the iron's hot.

In a way, I wish I could be like that. You'd never worry or care about anything that really mattered. You'd be happy, in the same pitiful way someone like our friend Ritchie is. Nothing affects you and you affect nothing.

Yes, I know it. In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He'd have loved it, all right. You see? Even death has a heart.

Her papa stood and called her half a woman. Max was writing The Word Shaker in the corner. Rudy was naked by the door.

From Liesel's position, their voices were only sounds. Not words at all.

Amen,' I say, delayed, and now, like many of these people, I pray for the first time in years.

The only thing worse than a boy who hates you; a boy who loves you.

She loved and hated her best friend, Rudy Steiner, which was perfectly normal.

There's my ma, fifty-years old, hightailing around town with some guy while I sit here, in the prime of my youth, completely and utterly alone. I shake my head. At myself.

Os seres humanos me assombram.

How do you tell if someone is alive? You check for breathing.

I saw him hip-deep in some icy water, chasing a book, and I saw a boy lying in bed, imagining how a kiss would taste from his glorious next-door neighbour. He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It's his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.

Usually, if an idea keeps calling you back, it's the right one