You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.

The place was a familiar as breath but as far from his life now as the moon.

Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.

The city of Pittsburgh gleaming suddenly before her . . . so startling in its vastness and its beauty that she had gasped and slowed, afraid of losing control of the car

Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.

Her voice, high and clear, moved through the leaves, through the sunlight. It splashed onto the gravel, the grass. He imagined the notes falling into the air like stones into water, rippling the invisible surface of the world. Waves of sound, waves of light: his father had tried to pin everything down, but the world was fluid and could not be contained.

You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.