Markus Zusak Quotes

But where are the snows of yester year?

How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace. Was it the end of a season, the end of a life? Was it so long ago it seems it might never have been? What is it in us that lives in the past and longs for the future, or lives in the future and longs for the past? (from "No Words Can Describe It")

This is the time to remember cause it will not last forever. These are the days to hold onto cause we won't although we'll want to.

She stood beside me for years, or was it a moment? I cannot remember. Maybe I loved her, maybe I didn't. There was a house, and then no house. There were trees, but none remain. When no one remembers, what is there? You, whose moments are gone, who drift like smoke in the afterlife, tell me something, tell me anything.

Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.

Time, you old gypsy man, will you not stay, put up your caravan just for one day?

Time, memory, loss and love are my main artistic concerns, but time, among all of them, becomes the determinant.

The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory.

There were lots of things to stop and see-and then it was time to go, always time to go.

The calendar has a magic that makes us imagine a memory can be resurrected and revived, but nothing returns.

And her life will perhaps be the richer, for holding now within it the memory of what came, but could not stay.

Tristan and Yvaine were happy together. Not forever-after, for Time, the thief, eventually takes all things into his dusty storehouse, but they were happy, as these things go, for a long while

The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.

By the time I recognize this moment, this moment will be gone. . . But I will bend the light, pretend that it somehow lingered on

Don't think about what you've left behind. If what one finds is made of pure matter, it will never spoil. And one can always come back. If what you had found was only a moment of light, like the explosion of a star, you would find nothing on your return.

Ten long trips around the sun since I last saw that smile, but only joy and thankfulness that on a tiny world in the vastness, for a couple of moments in the immensity of time, we were one.

Things you did. Things you never did. Things you dreamed. After a long time they run together.

as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.

I would have stayed forever within the garden of Re-mose's childhood, but time is a mother's enemy.

And here you are hurried, And here you are gone; And here is the love, That it's all built upon.

When all else is lost and gone forever, there is yearning. Only desire trumps time.

Time slips away and leaves you with nothing, mister, but boring stories of glory days.

You're only young once, they say, but doesn't it go on for a long time? More years than you can bear.