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.

“Seventy-six years old,” she whispers, “and I can still feel like this? Like a little girl with stars in my eyes?”

He made her the glowing hot center of his life; he made her feel as if every step she took was important.