Markus Zusak

“Summer came. For the book thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews. When their bodies had finished scouring for gaps in the door, their souls rose up. When t...”

“Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.”

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

“It felt as though the whole globe was dressed in snow. Like it has pulled it on, the way you pull on a sweater. Next to the train line, footprints were sunken to their shins. Trees wore blan...”

“The bombs were coming-and so was I.”

“How do you tell if something's alive? You check for breathing.”

“Death waits for no man - and if he does, he doesn't usually wait for very long.”

“Death's Diary: 1942 - It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to just name a few. Forget the scythe, God damn it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a holiday. (...) They say th...”

“The scribbled signature black, onto the blinding global white, onto the thick soupy red.”

“For two days I went about my business. I travelled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity.”

“Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?”

“***A KEY WORD*** Imagined”

“As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's...”

“Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.”

“...there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.”

“That's typically what writers do; we just sit around complaining most of the time. And the better things are going, the more they complain.”

“She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.”

“It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.”

“It makes me wonder, Do we spend most of our days trying to remember or forget things? Do we spend most of our time running towards or away from our lives? I don't know.”

“It is early, early morning. It's that time when it's still dark but you know the day is coming. Blue is bleeding through black. Stars are dying.”