She tore a page from the book and ripped it in half. Then a chapter. Soon, there was nothing but scraps of words littered between her legs and all around her. The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this. Without words, the Fรผhrer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or wordly tricks to make us feel better. What good were the words? She said it audibly now, to the orange-lit room. "What good are the words?
Markus ZusakA small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me.
Markus Zusak...there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.
Markus ZusakNo matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.
Markus ZusakA human doesn't have a heart like mine. The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both. Still, they have one thing I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.
Markus Zusak