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
heart two broken
Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces.
girl mountain climbs
She was a girl with a mountain to climb.
book kissing lips
Rudy Steiner was scared of the book theif's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have longed for it so much. he must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them.
cowardice glad acknowledgment
But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?
song lips breathe
The song was born on her breathe and died at her lips.
done lasts max
THE LAST WORDS OF MAX VANDENBURG: You've done enough.
realizing
I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.
men long waiting
Death waits for no man - and if he does, he doesn't usually wait for very long.
kissing one-day dying
One day, Liesel.' he said, 'you'll be dying to kiss me.
jesus want arthur
Oh, come on, Arthur." "I don't want to hear it, Andy." "Jesus Christ" "He doesn't want to hear it, either.
kind idiot arthur
Clearly," said Arthur,"you're an idiot- but you're our kind of idiot. Come on.
jobs thinking names
God. Twice I speak it. I say His name in a futile attempt to understand. "But it's not your job to understand." That's me who answers. God never says anything. You think you're the only one he never answers? "Your job is to..." And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me.
heart jigsaw-puzzles color
It’s the leftover humans. The survivors. They’re the ones I can’t stand to look at, although on many occasions I still fail. I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprises. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs. Which in turn brings me to the subject I am telling you about tonight, or today, or whatever the hour and color. It’s the story of one of those perpetual survivors –an expert at being left behind.
ice sweaters snow
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 blankets of ice. As you may expect, someone has died.