Anthony Doerr Quotes

Audubon,

Box 1 Auckland,

But he didn’t have language for what he really wanted to say; he couldn’t explain how her wildness that day, on the road, had thrilled him as much as it terrified him.

But what Marie-Laure remembered, standing at the rail as it whistled past, was her father saying that Foucault's pendulum would never stop. It would keep swinging, she understood, after she and her fa...

Ca inchipuiti mai sunt oamenii! De ce sa te obosesti sa compui muzica daca tacerea si vantul sunt mai cuprinzatoare? De ce sa aprinzi lampi daca intunericul, inevitabil, le va stinge?

Can deaf people hear their heartbeat, Frau Elena? Why doesn’t glue stick to the inside of the bottle, Frau Elena?

Can you imagine one hundred million years? Every summer for the whole life of that plant, its leaves caught what light they could and transformed the sun’s energy into itself. Into bark, twigs, stems....

Consider a single piece glowing in your family’s stove. See it, children? That chunk of coal was once a green plant, a fern or reed that lived one million years ago, or maybe two million, or maybe one...

Dar Dumnezeu e doar un ochi alb si rece, un sfert de luna atarnand deasupra fumului, clipind într-una, in timp ce orașul e facut praf si pulbere.

Death can seem so final, like a blade dropped through the neck. But the nature of death is not at all final. It is not some dark cliff off which we leap. I hope to show you it is merely a fog, somethi...

Deep in Madame's voice, Marie-Laure hears water: atolls and archipelagos and lagoons and fjords.

Each time Marie-Laure relays another rumor to her father, he repeats Germany with a question mark after it, as if saying it for the very first time. He says the takeover of Austria is nothing to worry...

Então, crianças, como o cérebro, que vive sem uma centelha de luz, constrói para nós um mundo cheio de luz?

Every hour, Robert thinks, all over the globe, an infinite number of memories disappear, whole glowing atlases dragged into graves. But during that same hour children are moving about, surveying terri...

Every hour, she thinks, someone for whom the war was memory falls out of the world. We rise again in the grass. In the flowers. In songs.

Every hour, she thinks, someone for whom the war was memory falls out of the world. We rise again in the gross. In the flowers. In songs.

Every hour, she thinks, someone for whom the war was memory falls out of the world. We

Frau Rosenbaum describes the November light in Venice, how it simultaneously hardens and softens everything. In the evenings that light is like liquid, she sighs. You want to drink it.

From the molten basements of the world, two hundred miles down, it comes. One crystal in a seam of others. Pure carbon, each atom linked to four equidistant neighbors, perfectly knit, tetrahedral, uns...

Gulls pass, braying like donkeys, and in the distance the guns thud again, and the rattling of the truck fades, and Marie-Laure tries to concentrate on rereading a chapter earlier in the novel: make t...