Markus Zusak: Wording

“I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.”

“It’s a small story really, about, among other things:

* A girl
* Some words
* An accordionist
* Some fanatical Germans
* A Jewish fist fighter
* And quite a lot of thievery”

“The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.”

“You can kill a man with those words.
No gun.
No bullets.
Just words and a girl.”

“My arms are killing me.
I didn't know words could be so heavy.”

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

“She kept watching the words.”

“She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.”

“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.”

“The injury of words.
Yes, the brutality of words.”

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

“THE LAST WORDS OF MAX VANDENBURG: You've done enough.”

“When he moves, a streetlight stabs him, and the words flow out like blood.”

“The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn’t be any of this. Without words, the Führer 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 gave 'The Dream Carrier' to Max as if words alone could nourish him.”

“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 the rain. (p. 85)”

“At first, all is black and white.
Black on white.
That's where I'm walking, through pages.
These pages.
Sometimes it gets so that I have one foot in the pages and the words, and the other in what they speak of.”

“She gave her a reason to write her own words, to see that words had also brought her to life.
"Don't punish yourself," she heard her say again, but there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.”