Quotes from Markus Zusak

Foi um ano para a eternidade, como 79, como 1346, para citar apenas alguns. Esqueçam a foice, raios, eu precisava de uma vassoura e de uma esfregada. E precisava de férias.

I kills me sometimes, the way people die. -Death

Goodbye, papa, you saved me. you taught me to read. No one can play like you. I'll never drink champagne. no one can play like you.

Sería bonito decir que después de este pequeño avance, ni Liesel ni Max volvieron a tener pesadillas. Sería bonito, pero mentira.

Believe it or not--it takes a lot of love to hate you like this

Los primeros días se sentaban a su lado y hablaban con él. El día de su cumpleaños le dijo que si se despertaba abrí un enorme pastel esperándole en la cocina. No se despertó. No hubo pastel.

Her blood loudened.

Salvas a alguien. Lo matas. ¿Cómo iba a saberlo el hombre?

Todavía toca el acordeón?

Un pequeño detalle Morirás.

Sometimes people are beautiful Not in looks Not in what they say Just in what they are

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

We smile a last smile, and I walk away. I feel her watching me, but I don't look back.

I'm not a writer who refuses to talk about a book until I've finished.

Believe it or not--it takes a lot of love to hate you like this.

Failure has been my best friend as a writer. It tests you, to see if you have what it takes to see it through.

I'm not one of these 'the characters write themselves; the story just fell out of me' kind of writers. Wish it was like that.

I like the idea that every page in every book can have a gem on it. It's probably what I love most about writing - that words can be used in a way that's like a child playing in a sandpit, rearranging things, swapping them around.

Please, trust me, 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 look at her wish we could go inside and make love on the couch. Dive inside each other. Take each other. Make each other. Nothing happens, though.

I think I'm always somehow interested in characters who want to make one perfect thing, to transcend humanness, even if only for a moment.

At first, she could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him?

We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.

I'd been in love with her for years. I never left this suburban town. I didn't go to university. I went to Audrey.