Markus Zusak

When I was growing up, I wanted to be a house painter like my father, but I was always screwing up w ...

She didn't see him watching as he played, having no idea that Hans Hubermann's accordion was a story ...

I procrastinate in spades. In my defence, I also try to have all other distractions solved before I ...

So many people chased after me in that time, calling my name, asking me to take them with me. Then t ...

Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. He ...

Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the n ...

A small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at ...

No one else could carry close to forty-five thousand people in such a short amount of time. Not in a ...

1. The desperate Jews - their spirits in my lap as we sat on the roof, next to the steaming chimneys ...

There were thousands of households throughout that city and there was something happening in all of ...

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

A fighter can be a winner, but that doesn't make a winner a fighter.

There was sex, of course. Nakedness. Wall to wall, in and out of my thoughts. But when it was over i ...

Fear is shiny. Ruthless in the eyes.

Mistakes, mistakes, it's all I seem capable of at times.