All the Light We Cannot See

by Anthony Doerr

There are, he assures her, no such things as curses. There is luck, maybe, bad or good. A slight inclination of each day toward success or failure. But no curses.

Open your eyes, concludes the man, and see what you can with them before they close forever,

Time is a slippery thing: lose hold of it once, and its string might sail out of your hands forever.

To men like that, time was a surfeit, a barrel they watched slowly drain. When really, he thinks, it’s a glowing puddle you carry in your hands; you should spend all your energy protecting it. Fighting for it. Working so hard not to spill one single drop.