Quotes from Marcus Zusak

It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.

It's much easier, she realized, to be on the verge of something than to actually be it.

Sometimes I arrive too early. I rush, and some people cling longer to life than expected.

She's beautiful. In the way she is.

As she crossed the street, a rumor of sunshine stood behind the clouds.

All the same, she cries on the front porch, and I wish I could go over there and hold her. I wish I could rescue her and hold her in my arms. How do people live like this? How do they survive? And maybe that's why I'm here. What if they can't anymore?

On the other hand, he was also enjoying the ecstasy of an idea, not daring just yet to envision its complications, dangers, and vicious absurdities. For now, the idea was enough. It was indestructible. Transforming it into reality, well, that was something else altogether. For now, though, let's let him enjoy it.

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 realized the person I was waiting for was myself.

Amplified by the still of night, the book opened -- a gust of wind.

Make no mistake, the woman (Rosa) had a heart. She had a bigger one than people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving.

I can move on now, because here, at this moment, no matter how fragile it might be, I can feel okayness growing inside me. The funny thing is that okayness is not a real word. It's not in the dictionary. But it's in me.

What is it about the sound of clapping hands? It's only skin against slapping skin, so why can it make a tide turn in you? Why can it break on top of you and lift you up at the same time? Maybe it's because it's one of the most noble things humans do with their hands. I mean, think about it. Humans make fists with their hands. They use them to fight, to steal things, to hurt each other. When people clap, it's one of the few times they stand together and applaud other people.

The ones who rise up and say, 'I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come.' Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.

It said: Dearest Milla, My sould needs yours. Love, Jimmy

It's like I've been chosen. But chosen for what? I ask. The answer is quite simple: To care.

Sometimes people are beautiful.

A bathrobe answered the door.

U sjeni stabala, Liesel je promatrala dje?aka. Kako li su se stvari promijenile: od kradljivca vo?a do davatelja kruha. Njegova plava kosa, iako je tamnila, bila je poput svije?e. ?ula je kako mu kruli u želucu - a davao je ljudima kruh. Je li to bila Njema?ka? Je li to bila nacisti?ka Njema?ka?

An old homeless man confronts me quietly with his beard, his missing teeth, and his poverty.