How wonderful it is to by my age - our age - and learn you were wrong about such a fundamental thing.
Anthony DoerrToward midnight he sat in the Raney Playground swings with his broken, disloyal heart continuing to pump behind his ribs. Maybe fifty feet away his daughter was in her bed, reeling, thinking it out, a thousand betrayals and loves and resentments riding the synapses between brain and heart and back again.
Anthony DoerrThe air between them seemed to accumulate energy.
Anthony DoerrThe dread that had been rising all morning rose higher in his throat as if by capillary action.
Anthony DoerrThe straining of dreams against the fabric of reality. Growing up meant burying possibilities, one after another.
Anthony DoerrGuarded curiosity.
Anthony DoerrIt was wrong and impossible and illicit and yet each minute with the boy was a gift, a scene from a story he could not leave.
Anthony DoerrSo many human beings, none of them seeing clearly.
Anthony DoerrThe year swung past the fulcrum of another equinox.
Anthony DoerrHis heart was a catapult in his chest.
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