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
dog fall doors
I suppose he'll die soon. I'm expecting it, like you do for a dog that's seventeen. There's no way to know how I'll react. He'll have faced his own placid death and slipped without a sound inside himself. Mostly, I imagine I'll crouch there at the door, fall onto him, and cry hard into the stench of his fur. I'll wait for him to wake up, but he won't. I'll bury him. I'll carry him outside, feeling his warmth turn to cold as the horizon frays and falls down in my backyard. For now, though, he's okay. I can see him breathing. He just smells like he's dead.
father eye men
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.
winning echoes mind
Winning wasn't natural for me. It had to be fought for, in the echoes and trodden footprints of my mind.
dog
You don't shoot a dog when it is already dead.
moments seems
Things always seem to glide away. They come to you, stay a moment, then leave again.
world overcoming forget-you
There are moments when you can only stand and stare, watching the world forget you as you remove yourself from it - when you overcome it and cease to exist as the person you were.
forests germany grows
He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... It was a nation of farmed thoughts.
mistake perfection feelings
It was a style not of perfection, but warmth. Even mistakes had a good feeling about them
good-woman attributes crisis
An attribute of Rosa Hubermann, she was a good woman for a crisis.
kindness book taken
And I can promise you something, because it was a thing I saw many years later - a vision in the book thief herself - that as she knelt next to Hans Hubermann, she watched him stand and play the accordion. He stood and strapped it on in the alps of broken houses and played the accordion with kindness silver eyes and even a cigarette slouched on his lips. The bellows breathed and the tall man played for Liesel Meminger one last time as the sky was slowly taken away from her.
brutality injury
The injury of words. Yes, the brutality of words.
old-friends acting care
It's not so much that the old friend is a better friend. It's just that you know the person better, and you know they don't really care if you're acting like a poor, grovelling idiot. They know you would do the same for them.
firsts ifs
If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.
suicide rafters
He killed himself for wanting to live.