Station Eleven

Characters carry over from one book to another, as do places, phrases, literature and music, forming connections like constellations in the same fictional sky.

he knew what being a tabloid story could do to a person, the corrosive effect of that kind of scrutiny.

although thoughts of Dieter carried a pain that was almost physical, like probing at an open wound.

The sound seemed strangely amplified, but she knew it was only the tension singing through her, her senses made acute by fear.

He wasn’t specifically sad anymore, but he was aware of death at all times.

whispering French to herself because all the horror in her life had transpired in English and she thought switching languages might save her,

What he didn’t tell her was that after all these years of corporate respectability, the haircut made him feel like himself again.

Why, in his life of frequent travel, had he never recognized the beauty of flight? The improbability of it.

These taken-for-granted miracles that had persisted all around them.