• But when Bumby nursed, his fist clutching the fabric of my robe, his eyes soft and bottomless and locked on mine, as if I were the very heart of his universe, I couldn't help but melt into him.

    Paula McLain: But when Bumby nursed, his fist clutching the fabric of my robe, his eyes soft and bottomless and locked on mine, as if I were the very heart of his universe, I couldn't help but melt into him.
    Paula McLain (2012). “The Paris Wife (Random House Reader's Circle Deluxe Reading Group Edition): A Novel”, p.204, Ballantine Books