I even move out onto the front porch and see my own limited view of the world. I want to take that world, and for the first time ever, I feel like I can do it. Iโve survived everything Iโve had to so far. Iโm still standing here.
Markus ZusakPlease believe me when I tell you that I picked up each soul that day as if it were newly born. I even kissed a few weary, poisoned cheeks. I listened to their last, gasping cries. Their vanishing words. I watched their love visions and freed them from their fear.
Markus ZusakItโs the leftover humans. The survivors. Theyโre the ones I canโt 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. Itโs the story of one of those perpetual survivors โan expert at being left behind.
Markus ZusakIf a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.
Markus ZusakHow does it feel, anyway?" How does what feel?" When you take one of those books?" At that moment, she chose to keep still. If he wants an answer, he'd have to come back, and he did. "Well?" he asked, but again, it was the boy who replied, before Liesel could even open her mouth. It feels good, doesn't it? To steal something back.
Markus Zusak