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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| d2bee27 | al menos los humanos tienen el buen juicio de morir. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 5d4e98b | The thought of missing it was eased when she found a gap in the bodies and was able to see the mound of guilt, still intact. It was prodded and splashed, even spat on. It reminded her of an unpopular child, forlorn and bewildered, powerless to alter its fate. No one liked it. Head down. Hands in pockets. Forever. Amen. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 910ea17 | From Liesel's position, their voices were only sounds. Not words at all. | Markus Zusak | ||
| e4cdbd5 | Ilsa Hermann was dying now herself--to get rid of her. Liesel could see it somewhere in the way she hugged the robe a little tighter. The clumsiness of sorrow still kept her at close proximity, but clearly, she wanted this to be over. "Tell your mama," she spoke again. Her voice was adjusting now, as one sentence turned into two. "That we're sorry." She started shepherding the girl toward the door. Liesel felt it now in the shoulders. The p.. | Markus Zusak | ||
| fee5cae | Now she became spiteful. More spiteful and evil than she thought herself capable. The injury of words. Yes, the brutality of words. She summoned them from someplace she only now recognized and hurled them at Ilsa Hermann. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 3326006 | After a miscarriaged pause, the mayor's wife edged forward and picked up the book. She was battered and beaten up, and not from smiling this time. Liesel could see it on her face. Blood leaked from her nose and licked at her lips. Her eyes had blackened. Cuts had opened up and a series of wounds were rising to the surface of her skin. All from the words. From Liesel's words. | Markus Zusak | ||
| b122b3f | In bed, she read with Papa, who could tell something was wrong. It was the first time in a month that he'd come in and sat with her, and she was comforted, if only slightly. Somehow, Hans Hubermann always knew what to say, when to stay, and when to leave her be. Perhaps Liesel was the one thing he was a true expert at. | Markus Zusak | ||
| e80de41 | The distance between us was him. | Markus Zusak | ||
| af28fac | It'll be dark soon, Rudy.' He walked on. 'So what?' 'I'm going back.' Rudy stopped and watched her now as if she were betraying him. 'That's right, book thief. Leave me now. I bet if there was a lousy book at the end of this road, you'd keep walking. Wouldn't you? | reading | Markus Zusak | |
| 50d109a | He invited his people toward his own glorious heart, beckoning them with his finest, ugliest words, handpicked from his forests. And the people came. They were all placed on a conveyor belt and run through a rampant machine that gave them a lifetime in ten minutes. Words were fed into them. Time disappeared and they now Knew everything they needed to know. They were hypnotized. | Markus Zusak | ||
| a7ba390 | There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it had been empty. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 3ac8a30 | Papa. She Would not, and could not, look at Papa. Not yet. Not now. | Markus Zusak | ||
| cbbf518 | It's probably fair to say that in all the years of Hitler's reign, no person was able to serve the Fuhrer as loyally as me. A 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 .. | Markus Zusak | ||
| efd68ba | The science of Papa's trade brought him an even greater level of respect. It was well and good to share bread and music, but it was nice for Liesel to know that he was also more than capable in his occupation. Competence was attractive. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 8c45cb8 | Many times, she wanted to ask her papa if he might teach her to play, but somehow, something always stopped her. Perhaps an unknown intuition told her that she would never be able to play it like Hans Hubermann. Surely, not even the world's greatest accordionists could compare. They could never be equal to the casual concentration on Papa's face. Or there wouldn't be a paintwork-traded cigarette slouched on the player's lips. And they could.. | Markus Zusak | ||
| f62f2d9 | charcoal. What was left of the | Markus Zusak | ||
| 00020ea | Sure, she loved horses, she enjoyed racing, but she abhorred the racing business; its wastage, its overbreeding. Its greedy girth of underbelly. It was something like a beautiful whore, and she'd seen it devoid of make-up. | Markus Zusak | ||
| ff60661 | THE CONTRADICTORY POLITICS OF ALEX STEINER *** Point One: He was a member of the Nazi Party but he did not hate the Jews, or anyone else for that matter. Point Two: Secretly, though, he couldn't help feeling a percentage of relief (or worse - gladness!) when Jewish shop owners were put out of business - propaganda informed him that it was only a matter of time before a plague of Jewish tailors showed up and stole his customers. Point Three:.. | politics | Markus Zusak | |
| e22422e | 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. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 9d9c4c7 | Every night, Liesel made her way down to the basement. She kept the book with her at all times. For hours, she wrote, attempting each night to complete ten pages of her life. There was so much to consider, so many things in danger of being left out. Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew. | Markus Zusak | ||
| c4467fb | 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've been chosen. But chosen for what? I ask. The answer's quite simple: To care. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 7dea061 | 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 surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 1abf022 | Big things are often just small things that are noticed. - Ed Kennedy | recognition small-things | Markus Zusak | |
| 1b11bf7 | When you cannot express it in number, your knowledge is of a meager and unsatisfactory kind. | Gretchen Rubin | ||
| 2f197fb | 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 | ||
| 4879b77 | Hans Hubermann held his hand out and presented a piece of bread, like magic. | Markus Zusak | ||
| e4c8a63 | If I die anytime soon, you make sure they bury me right. | history war | Markus Zusak | |
| 90a3de2 | Don't go, papa. Please. Her spoon-holding hand is shaking. First we lost Max. I can't lose you now, too. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 27fc10a | somewhere in his murkiest depths, he wasn't so much afraid of being left again as condemning someone else to second best. | Markus Zusak | ||
| 6fdc73e | No-one's urine smells as good as your own. | Markus Zusak | ||
| e438d00 | In the morning's early hours, quiet voices were loud. | silence | Markus Zusak | |
| 39e6ad9 | With a smile like that, you don't need eyes. | smile | Markus Zusak | |
| 5081c9a | I'm not the messenger at all. I'm the message. | Markus Zusak | ||
| c9238e6 | Extroversion: response to reward Neuroticism: response to threat Conscientiousness: response to inhibition (self-control, planning) Agreeableness: regard for others Openness to experience: breadth of mental associations | Gretchen Rubin | ||
| 1598be6 | The more ideas they had the more they suffered. | suffering | Gustave Flaubert | |
| 20ed1fb | Mais, a mesure que se serrait davantage l'intimite de leur vie, un detachement se faisait qui la deliait de lui. | Gustave Flaubert | ||
| 1920f09 | Zivot koji sam potiskivao u sebe stisnuo se u srce i stezao ga da ga zadavi. | Gustave Flaubert | ||
| 1147307 | Laissez-moi tranquille avec votre hideuse realite ! Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire, la realite ? Les uns voient noir, d'autres bleu, la multitude voit bete. Rien de moins naturel que Michel-Ange, rien de plus fort ! Le souci de la verite exterieure denote la bassesse contemporaine ; et l'art deviendra, si l'on continue, je ne sais quelle rocambole au-dessous de la religion comme poesie, et de la politique comme interet. Vous n'arriverez pas a.. | Gustave Flaubert | ||
| 7ebc7b4 | However, all this reading had disturbed their brains. | Gustave Flaubert | ||
| 4f9fe1a | En el fondo de su corazon, no obstante, esperaba que sucediera algo. Como los marineros naufragos, contemplaba con ojos desesperados la soledad de su vida, buscaba a lo lejos alguna vela blanca entre las brumas del horizonte. No sabia cual seria aquel azar, que viento lo llevaria hasta ella, hacia que orilla la conduciria, si seria una chalupa o un navio de tres puentes cargado de angustias o colmado de felicidad hasta las portillas. Pero t.. | Gustave Flaubert | ||
| 9e93a5c | Anyway, what was the use? Women's hearts were like those desks full of secret drawers that fit one inside another; you struggle with them, you break your fingernails, and at the bottom you find a withered flower, a little dust, or nothing at all! | Gustave Flaubert | ||
| bb87889 | Critics always praise precision in writing, and some great writers (Joyce, Beckett, Gustave Flaubert) are masters of clarity--but one of the great (and seldom mentioned) resources of fiction is vagueness. | writing | Edmund White | |
| 3b780db | A los idolos es mejor no tocarlos porque algo de la pintura dorada que los recubria se nos queda siempre entre las manos | human idol love melancholy | Flaubert Gustave | |
| f4ee7d6 | As to Emma, she did not ask herself whether she loved. Love, she thought, must come suddenly, with great outbursts and lightnings--a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionises it, roots up the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whole heart into the abyss | Gustave Flaubert |