Quotessence
Home / Books / The Book Thief

The Book Thief

Book by Markus Zusak · 50 quotes · The Book Thief, Death, Markus Zusak

Filter quotes by topic

AllThe Book ThiefDeathMarkus ZusakLoveBooksLiesel MemingerLifeBeautifulHappinessWordsHeartHitlerHumansReadingRudy SteinerSadSadnessSmileWarWorld War Ii

The Book Thief Quotes

“On June 23, 1942, there was a group of French Jews in a German prison, on Polish soil. The first person I took was close to the door, his mind racing, then reduced to pacing, then slowing down, slowing down.... Please believe me when I tell you that I picked up each would 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. I took them all away, and if there was a time I needed distraction, this was it. In complete desolation, I looked at the world above. I watched the sky as it turned from silver to gray to the color of rain. Even the clouds were trying to get away. Sometimes I imagined how everything looked above those clouds, knowing without question that the sun was blond, and the endless atmosphere was a giant blue eye. They ere French, they were Jews, and they were you.”

DeathWorld War IiFrenchJewsThe Book Thief
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“[...]otra arremetida de «Heil Hitler!». ¿Sabes? Lo cierto es que me sorprendería que alguien no perdiera un ojo o se hiciera daño en una mano o en una muñeca en medio de ese jaleo. Bastaba con quedarse mirando hacia el lugar equivocado en el peor momento o estar demasiado pegado a otra persona. Tal vez sí que hubo heridos. Por lo que a mí respecta, lo único que puedo decir es que nadie murió por estar allí, al menos físicamente. Es evidente que no podemos olvidar los cuarenta millones de personas que recogí cuando todo hubo acabado, pero esto se está poniendo metafórico.”

The Book ThiefMarkus ZusakLa Ladrona De Libros
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“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.”

BooksLibrary
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“Jesus, Mary …” 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 the 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! Even when she tried to wipe the smile away with her forearm, she realized instantly that it was a pointless exercise. She could feel the eyes of the woman traveling her body, and when she looked at her, they had rested on her face. There was more silence than she ever thought possible. It extended like an elastic, dying to break. The girl broke it. “Can I?” The two words stood among acres and acres of vacant, wooden-floored land. The books were miles away. The woman nodded. Yes, you can”

BooksMarkus ZusakLiesel Meminger
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“Death's Diary: 1942 - It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to just name a few. Forget the scythe, God damn it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a holiday. (...) They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thing, incessantly. 'Get it done, get it done'. So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss however, does not thank you. He asks for more.”

Death
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“Un om nu are inimă ca a mea. Inima omenească este o linie, în timp ce a mea este un cerc și posed abilitatea infinită de a fi la locul potrivit în momentul potrivit. Consecințele acestui lucru sunt că mereu găsesc oameni în cel mai bun moment al lor și în cel mai rău. Văd urâțenia și frumusețea lor și mă întreb cum poate să fie ceva în două feluri în același timp. Totuși, ei au un lucru pe care îl invidiez. Oamenii, lăsând la o parte orice altceva, au bunul simț de a muri.”

MoarteSufletInimaFrumusete
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“The young man wandered around for quite some time, thinking, planning, and figuring out exactly how to make the world his. Then one day, out of nowhere, it struck him - the perfect plan. He'd seen a mother walking with her child. At one point, she admonished the small boy, until finally, he began to cry. Within a few minutes, she spoke softly to him, after which he was soothed and even smiled. The young man rushed to the woman and embraced her. "Words!" He grinned. "What?" But there was no reply. He was already gone. Yes, the Fuhrer decided that he would rule the world with words.”

HitlerRule The WorldThe Power Of WordsThe Word Shaker
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“The sky was dripping. Like a tap that a child has tried its hardest to turn off but hasn't quite managed. At first, the drops were cool. I felt them on my hands as I walked down from Frau Diller's, in the middle of the road. Above me, I could hear them. Through the overcast sky, I looked up and saw the tin-can planes. I watched their stomachs open and drop the bombs casually out. ... The bombs came down and soon the clouds would bake and the cold raindrops would turn to ash. Hot snowflakes would shower to the ground.”

BombsDescriptionTrajedy
Book:The Book Thief
Create image

“He was tall in the bed and I could see the silver through his eyelids. His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do—the best ones. The ones who rise up and say, “I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come.” Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places. This one was sent out by the breath of an accordion, the odd taste of champagne in summer, and the art of promise-keeping. He lay in my arms and rested. There was an itchy lung for a last cigarette and an immense, magnetic pull toward the basement, for the girl who was his daughter and was writing a book down there that he hoped to read one day.”

Kindle EditionP 531 532
Book:The Book Thief
Create image