Markus Zusak
Markus Zusak
Markus Frank Zusak,is an Australian writer. He is best known for The Book Thief and The Messenger, two novels for young adults which have been international best-sellers. He won the annual Margaret Edwards Award in 2014 for his contribution to young-adult literature published in the US...
NationalityAustralian
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth23 June 1975
CountryAustralia
fighter winner
A fighter can be a winner, but that doesn't make a winner a fighter.
book reading writing
It's insane to be a writer and not be a reader. When I'm writing I'm more likely to be reading four or five books at once, just in bits and pieces rather than subjecting myself to a really brilliant book and thinking, "Well what's the point of me writing anything?" I'm more likely to read a book through when I take a break from writing.
waiting persons standing
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.
humans hunted
I am hunted by humans
christmas littles snowman
It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.
ideas giving pieces
When I find research really rewarding is when one piece of information gives you an idea for a story. That's when it's great.
power power-of-words made
I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.
monday sun
It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.
change time disappointment
She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.
writing skulls giving
You should give it to Max, Liesel. See if you can leave it on the bedside table, like all the other things." Liesel watched him as if he'd gone insane. "How, though?" Lightly, he tapped her skull with his knuckles. "Memorize it. Then write it down for him.
morning stars dark
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.
moving-on broken-relationship want
She took a step and didn't want to take any more, but she did.
writing pages fists
Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.
running morning winter
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 different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning.