Sunday Sentence: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

Simply put, the best sentence(s) I’ve read this past week, presented out of context and without commentary.

“How about peaches, dear?” murmurs Madame Manec, and Marie-Laure can hear a can opening, juice slopping into a bowl.  Seconds later, she's eating wedges of wet sunlight.

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr