Sunday Sentence: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

Simply put, the best sentence(s) I’ve read this past week, presented out of context and without commentary.


All winter the Germans drive their horses and sledges and tanks and trucks over the same roads, packing down the snow, transforming it into a slick bloodstained ice-cement.  And when April finally comes, reeking of sawdust and corpses, the canyon walls of snow give way while the ice on the roads remains stubbornly fixed, a luminous, internecine network of invasion: a record of the c...