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“I am haunted by humans.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn't already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race-that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“She leaned down and looked at his lifeless face and Leisel kissed her best friend, Rudy Steiner, soft and true on his lips. He tasted dusty and sweet. He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection. She kissed him long and soft, and when she pulled herself away, she touched his mouth with her fingers...She did not say goodbye. She was incapable, and after a few more minutes at his side, she was able to tear herself from the ground. It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on...”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Even death has a heart.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.

She was the book thief without the words.

Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter. ”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“How about a kiss, Saumensch?"

He stood waist-deep in the water for a few moments longer before climbing out and handing her the book. His pants clung to him, and he did not stop walking. In truth, I think he was afraid. Rudy Steiner was scared of the book thief's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“My heart is so tired”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“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. (Death)”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.”
― Marcus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Hair the color of lemons,'" Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. "You told him about me?"

At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death.

Of course I told him about you," Liesel said.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.”
― Marcus Zusak, The Book Thief

“On many counts, taking a boy like Rudy Steiner was robbery--so much life, so much to live for--yet somehow, I'm certain he would have loved to see the frightening rubble and the swelling of the sky on the night he passed away. He'd have cried and turned and smiled if only he could have seen the book thief on her hands and knees, next to his decimated body. He'd have been glad to witness her kissing his dusty, bomb-hit lips.
Yes, I know it.
In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know. He'd have loved it all right.
You see?
Even death has a heart.”
― Markus Zusak (The Book Thief), The Book Thief

“Of course, I'm being rude. I'm spoiling the ending, not only of the entire book, but of this particular piece of it. I have given you two events in advance, because I don't have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me. There are many things to think of. There is much story.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH
I do not carry a sickle or scythe.
I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold.
And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“She said it out loud, the words distributed into a room that was full of cold air and books. Books everywhere! Each wall was armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, the red, the gray, the every-colored books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen.

With wonder, she smiled.

That such a room existed!”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“I like that every page in every book can have a gem on it. It's probably what I love most about writing—that words can be used in a way that's like a child playing in a sandpit, rearranging things, swapping them around. They're the best moments in a day of writing—when an image appears that you didn't know would be there when you started work in the morning.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“As always, one of her books was next to her.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“If they killed him tonight, at least he would die alive.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Two weeks to change the world, fourteen days to destroy it.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“for some reason, dying men always ask the question they know the answer to. perhaps it's so they can die being right.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“When death captures me," the boy vowed, "he will feel my fist in his face." (31.26)”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“When she came to write her story, she would wonder when the books and the words started to mean not just something, but everything.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“The best word shakers were the ones who understood the true power of words. They were the ones who could climb the highest. One such word shaker was a small, skinny girl. She was renowned as the best word shaker of her region because she knew how powerless a person could be WITHOUT words.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Grimly, she realized that clocks don't make a sound that even remotely resembles ticking, tocking. It was more the sound of a hammer, upside down, hacking methodically at the earth. It was the sound of a grave. ”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“The point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“One day, Liesel.' he said, 'you'll be dying to kiss me.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“The day was gray, the color of Europe.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter and bread with only the scent of jam spread on top of it. It was the best time of her life.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“It’s the leftover humans. The survivors. They’re the ones I can’t 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. It’s the story of one of those perpetual survivors –an expert at being left behind.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“They'd been standing like that for thirty seconds of forever.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Yes, I'm often reminded of her, and in one of my array of pockets, I have kept her story to retell. It is one of the small legion I carry, each one extraordinary in its own right. Each one an attempt - an immense leap of an attempt - to prove to me that you, and your human existence, are worth it.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“So many humans. So many colours. They keep triggering inside me. They harass my memory. I see them tall in their heaps, all mounted on top of each other. There is air like plastic, a horizon like setting glue. There are skies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking, and there are soft, coal-coloured clouds, beating, like black hearts. And then. There is death. Making his way through all of it. On the surface: unflappable, unwavering. Below: unnerved, untied, and undone.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences. ”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“Steadily, the room shrank, till the book thief could touch the shelves within a few small steps. She ran the back of her hand along the first shelf, listening to the shuffle of her fingernails gliding across the spinal cord of each book. It sounded like an instrument, or the notes of running feet. She used both hands. She raced them. One shelf against the other. And she laughed. Her voice was sprawled out, high in her throat, and when she eventually stopped and stood in the middle of the room, she spent many minutes looking from the shelves to her fingers and back again.

How many books had she touched?

How many had she felt?

She walked over and did it again, this time much slower, with her hand facing forward, allowing the dough of her palm to feel the small hurdle of each book. It felt like magic, like beauty, as bright lines of light shone down from a chandelier. Several times, she almost pulled a title from its place but didn't dare disturb them. They were too perfect.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“The injury of words.
Yes, the brutality of words.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“When I recollect her, I see a long list of colors, but it's the three in which I saw her in the flesh that resonate the most. Sometimes I manage to float far above those three moments. I hang suspended, until a septic truth bleeds toward clarity.

That's when I see them formulate:

THE COLORS
RED: [rectangle]
WHITE: [circle]
BLACK: [swastika]

They fall on top of each other. The scribbled signature black, onto the blinding global white, onto the thick soupy red.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“He killed himself for wanting to live.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“The conversation of bullets.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief