Fridays after school, especially when the weather was lousy, Mom would take me to the library. She'd let me check out whatever… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
I was reading C.S. Lewis with my mom, and she was pointing out that he was dead, and I'm like, 'What do… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
My mom was a high school science teacher for decades. She just never made it feel like we had to choose between… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
My parents would drive us to Florida every spring in this big old, rusy Suburban, and we'd collect stuff on the beach… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
My mom is a science teacher in high school, and one of my brothers works in optics at Bell Labs, and so… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“he moved neither forward nor backward in time, but merely endured variations of the same day over and over. Maybe he was the one… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“Open your eyes, the Frenchman on the radio used to say, and see what you can with them before they close forever.” — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“Just when we think we have a system, ...the system collapses. Just when we know our way around, we get lost. Just when we… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“An hour passed and another and then, like a glass of water overfilled - the meniscus inverting, going convex, gravity pulling at the edges,… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“For dinner, he orders wild boar cooked with fresh mushrooms. And a full bottle of Bordeaux. Especially during wartime, such things remain important. They… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“Do you know what happens, Etienne,” says Madame Manec from the other side of the kitchen, “when you drop a frog in a pot… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“You ever hope for something so much? So much you can't sleep, so much your skull hurts? But the thing is, you don't even… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“Hope was a sunrise, a friend in the alley, a whisper in an empty corridor.” — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
Time is a slippery thing: lose hold of it once, and its string might sail out of your hands forever. — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“...the air a library and the record of every life lived, every sentence spoken, every word transmitted still reverberating within it.” — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
“silent desperation of everything they never said - gaps and absences in every conversation, the past circumscribing the present, the future hemming in the… — Anthony Doerr Copy Share Image
