And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer

by Fredrik Backman

Noah’s feet don’t touch the ground when his legs dangle over the edge of the bench, but his head reaches all the way to space, because he hasn’t been alive long enough to allow anyone to keep his thoughts on Earth.

Whenever Noah was scared of sleeping, Grandpa would take out a string and tie one end around his arm and the other around the boy’s and promise that if Noah had nightmares he only had to pull on the string and Grandpa would wake up and bring him straight back to safety. Like a boat on a jetty. Grandpa kept his promise, every single time.

We know so little about how the brain works. It’s like a fading star right now—do you remember what I taught you about that?” “When a star fades it takes a long time for us to realize, as long as it takes for the last of its light to reach Earth.”

There’s no greater mystery in the universe than a human.

Not everyone knows that water and sunshine have scents, but they do, you just have to get far enough away from all other smells to realize it.

“No, death is a slow drum. It counts every beat. We can’t haggle with it for more time.”