Markus Zusak Quotes

It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.

On many counts, taking a boy like Rudy Steiner was robbery — 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. He'd have cried and turned and smiled if only he could have seen the book thief on her hands and knees, next to his decimated body. He'd have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips.
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.

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.

The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.

I'd rather chase the sun than wait for it.

As always, one of her books was next to her.

Of course, I'm being rude. I'm spoiling the ending, not only of the entire book, but of this particular piece of it. I have given you two events in advance, because I don't have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me. There are many things to think of. There is much story.

You can kill a man with those words.
No gun.
No bullets.
Just words and a girl.

My arms are killing me.
I didn't know words could be so heavy.

I like 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. They're the best moments in a day of writing — when an image appears that you didn't know would be there when you started work in the morning.

I'm not the messenger at all.
I'm the message.

...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death.

A human doesn't have a heart like mine. 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 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.

If they killed him tonight, at least he would die alive.

It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.