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
books books-and-reading step teenage
So many teenage books say, 'This is in your voice, this is about you,' and that's great. We really need that. But we also need books that say, 'This is also for you, but you need to come up here, to step up to this.
humans
I am haunted by humans.
teacher book writing
I certainly wasn't born with creative writing. Maybe there's a certain amount of learning and then it's up to the person. I think in the end it's your favourite books that are the best teachers. That's the way I've learned the most, by far.
nice cheerful trust-me
Please, trust me, I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.
trying firsts colour
First the colours. Then the humans. That’s usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.
waiting wonder happenings
A happening was looming. It was out there somewhere beyond the regular enclosed life that I had been living. It was out there, not waiting, but existing. Being. Perhaps it was only slightly wondering if I would come to it.
pain writing punishment
...there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.
desks coming-back ability
You'll have days of complete lack of faith in your abilities. But you have to keep coming back. That's when you know you're a writer - when you take the failures and appear at the desk again, over and over again.
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.
motivational book special
Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you've finished just to stay near it.
christmas littles snowman
It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.
faces coughing streams
It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.
summer book doors
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 their fingernails had scratched at the wood and in some cases were nailed into it by the sheer force of desperation, their spirits came toward me, into my arms, and we climbed out of those shower facilities, onto the roof and up, into eternity's certain breadth. They just kept feeding me. Minute after minute. Shower after shower.
unconditional-love matter recognition
No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.