What is it about the sound of clapping hands? Why does it seem like an ocean of sound, breaking like waves on top of you? Why does it make a tide turn in you? Maybe it’s because it’s one of the most noble things humans do with their hands. I mean, humans make fists with their hands. They use them to hurt each other and steal things. When humans clap, it’s the one time they stand together and applaud other humans. I think they’re there to keep things. They hold moments together, to remember.
Markus ZusakDo you still play the accordian?
Markus ZusakI prefer to remain unenlightened, to better appreciate the dark.
Markus ZusakMots clés book-thief
Christ, it's defeaning. why can't the world hear? I ask myself. Within a few moments I ask it many times. Because it doesn't care, I finally answer, and I know I'm right. It's like I have been chosen. But chosen for what? I ask. The answer's quite simple: To Care....
How do people live like this? How do they survive? And maybe that's why I am here. What if they can't anymore?
I always think of books being tougher in a sense, in that you’ve got to sit down and you’ve got to do a little bit of work, but the rewards are so great. When a book opens up to you, it is you and that book, and there’s something really special about that - that you’re reading words and you go beyond the mechanics of words and turning pages. It’s always that nice thing when you’re turning pages and you don’t even realise it. That’s what I’ve always loved about books and that’s why I think they’ll never disappear from our lives.
Markus ZusakIt's funny how when you watch people from a long distance, it all seems voiceless. It's like watching a silent movie. You guess what people say. You watch their mouths move and imagine the sounds of their feet hitting the ground. You wonder what they're talking about and, even more so, what they might be thinking
Markus ZusakNo one's urine smells as good as your own.
Markus ZusakYou hungry?' Rudy asked.
Liesel replied, 'Starving.' For a book.
She was home, among the mayor's books of every color and description, with their silver and gold lettering. She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.
Markus ZusakShe sang a song, but it was so quiet that Liesel could not make it out. The notes were born on her breath, and they died at her lips.
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