Heather Weir

54%
Flag icon
the smell of the baby. It overwhelmed all. It was a smell unmatched in the world, and she surrendered to it again now, lowering her face to the sleeping child and closing her eyes so the smell came about her and held her in it, and was, though all else might fall, the fundament of goodness.
Time of the Child: A Novel
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview