Sara Gruen

“I get poked and prodded like this every morning. I'm like a piece of meat unearthed from the back of the fridge, suspect until proven otherwise.”

“I cling to my anger with every ounce of humanity left in my ruined body, but it's no use. It slips away, like a wave from shore. I am pondering this sad fact when I realize the blackness of sleep is circling my head. It's been there awhile, biding its time and growing closer with each revolution. I give up on rage, which at this point has become a formality, and make a mental note to get angry again in the morning. Then I let myself drift, because there's really no fighting it.”

“But there's nothing to be done about it. All I can do is put in time waiting for the inevitable, observing as the ghosts of my past rattle around my vacuous present. They crash and bang and make themselves at home, mostly because there's no competition. I've stopped fighting them. They're crashing and banging around in there now. Make yourselves at home, boys. Stay awhile. Oh, sorry—I see you already have. Damn ghosts.”

“I have to convince myself that this is not a pointless life, even the body is telling me so.”

“Es imposible describir la ternura que he empezado a sentir por ellos: hienas, camellos y todos los demás. Hasta el oso polar, que veo tumbado sobre su costado, mordisqueando sus zarpas de doce centímetros con sus dientes de doce centímetros. El amor por estos animales me invade repentinamente, como un torrente, y se eleva dentro de mí, sólido como un obelisco y fluido como el agua.”

“Although, pretending not to notice is almost worse than noticing.”

“But it all zipped by. One minute Marlena and I were up to our eyeballs, and the next thing we knew the kids were borrowing the car and fleeing the coop for college. And now, here I am. In my nineties and alone.”

“Then she turns to Midnight and perches delicately on his lowered back. He rises, arches his neck, and carries Marlena from the big top. The rest of the horses follow, once again grouped by color, crowding each other to stay close to their mistress.”

“ان العمر لص رهيب, فبمجرد ان تتمكن من مسار حياتك, ياتي هو اليك ليكسر ساقك ويحني ظهرك فيسكن الألم في جسدك, ويشوش عقلك وينشر في صمت مرض السرطان في جسد شريك حياتك.”

“They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.”

“There is no question that I am the only thing standing between these animals and the business practices of August and Uncle Al, and what my father would do--what my father would want me to do--is look after them, and I am filled with that absolute and unwavering conviction. No matter what I did last night, I cannot leave these animals. I am their shepherd, their protector.”

“I stare at her for a long moment. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.”

“Honey, I plan to marry you the moment the ink is dry on that death certificate.”

“I hate this bizarre policy of protective exclusion, because it effectively writes me off the page.”

“It's as though I've been sleepwalking and suddenly woken to find myself here”

“Just when you're getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back. It makes you ache and muddies your head...”

“age is a terrible theif”

“How hard can it be to find a girl and an elephant for Christ's sake?”

“Sometimes I think that if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn. Not that I wouldn't love to have a final roll in the hay - I am a man yet, and something never die - but the thought of those sweet kernels bursting between my teeth sure sets my mouth to watering. It's fantasy, I know that. Neither will happen. I just like to weight the options, as though I were standing in front of Solomon: a final roll in the hay or an ear of corn. What a wonderful dilemma. Sometimes I substitute an apple for the corn.”

“So what if I'm ninety-three? So what if I'm ancient and cranky and my body's a wreck? If they're willing to accept me and my guilty conscience, why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus? It's like Charlie told the cop. For this old man, this is home.”

“I'm afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.”

“When did I stop being me?”

“Age is a terrible thief.”

“Life is the greatest show on earth!”

“The sky the sky- same as it always was.”

“Don't mind Russ," he says. "He's a good kid underneath all those holes, although it's a wonder he doesn't spring a leak when he drinks”

“Fragmentos de céu me espiam através das folhas, um mosaico azul e verde que se altera suavemente com o vento. Fixo a vista ali e me deixo perder o foco, olhando para além das folhas e dos galhos. Um esquilo salta pesadamente, a cauda bem empinada, cruzando meu campo de visão.Water for Elephants, p.22”

“I am further back, surrounded on all sides by wailing men, their faces shiny with tears. Uncle Al promised three dollars and a bottle of Canadian whiskey to the man who puts on the best show. You've never seen such grief-- even the dogs were howling.”

“Must protect my little pockets of happiness.”

“Life goes on with fragile normalcy.”

“All I can do is put in time waiting for the inevitable, observing as the ghost of my past rattle around my vacuous present. They crash and bang and make themselves at home, mostly because there's no competition. I've stopped fighting them. They're crashing and banging around in there now. Make yourselves at home, boys. Stay awhile. Oh, sorry- I see you already have. Damn ghost.”

“Age is terrible thief. Just when you're getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back”

“After sixty-one years together, she simply clutched my hand and exhaled.”

“He stares at me, and then leans back in his chair. "He's ill, Jacob."I say nothing. "He's a paragon schnitzophonic.""He's what?!""Paragon schnitzophonic," repeats Uncle Al. "You mean paranoid schizophrenic?""Sure. Whatever. But the bottom line is he's mad as a hatter...”

“I strain to hear, but my old ears, for all their obscene hugeness, pick up nothing but snippets:”

“I was always searching, always seeking the next big thing, because that was the thing that was going to make everything all right again. And while I was working toward it, it gave me something to think about other than that thing I couldn't put my finger on. But it always came back.”

“But it wasn't long before the old familiar discontent started creeping up on me. I suppose it was always there, somewhere in the background. All I've done, my whole life, is keep it temporarily at bay.”

“To be sure, I'm not perfect wife material: I'm neurotic. I'm compulsive. I speak before I think and can't cook worth a damn. I'm messy and germaphobic all at once, and it's not entirely unheard of for me to get hold of the wrong end of the stick and then hang there like a pitbull.”

“It was the only secret I kept from her and eventually it became impossible to fix. With a secret like that, at some point the secret becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.”

“He whispers in her ear, and she basks in his attention, trumpeting happily at the sight of him. Doesn't she remember?”

“It's like Charlie told the cop. For this old man, this is home.”

“The thought has cheered me, and I'd like to hang onto that. Must protect my little pockets of happiness.”

“All right. Let's give you something to tell your grandkids about. Or great-grandkids. Or great-great-grandkids." I snort with glee, delirious with excitement. Charlie winks and pours me another finger's worth of whiskey. Then, on second thought, he tips the bottle again. I reach out and grab its neck. "Better not," I say. "Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.”

“Hey! Shouts Camel. There ain't no woman in the world worth two bottles of whiskey!”

“Sometimes when you get older—and I'm not talking about you, I'm talking generally, because everyone ages differently—things you think on and wish on start to seem real. And then you believe them, and before you know it they're a part of your history, and if someone challenges you on them and says they're not true—why, then you get offended.”

“I've decided it's not about me at all. It's a protective mechanism for them, a way of buffering themselves against my future death, like when teenagers distance themselves from their parents in preparation for leaving home.”

“Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.”

“Do you have any idea how much an elephant drinks?”

“My father felt it was his duty to continue to treat animals long after he stopped getting paid. He couldn't stand by and watch a horse colic or a cow labor with a breech calf even though it meant personal ruin. The parallel is undeniable. There is no question I am the only thing standing between these animals and the business practices of August and Uncle Al, and what my father would do - what my father would want me to do - is look after them, and I am filled with that absolute and unwavering conviction. No matter what I did last night, I cannot leave these animals. I am their shepherd, their protector. And it's more than a duty. It's a covenant with my father.”

“I realize the blackness of sleep is circling my head. It's been there a while, biding its time and growing closer with each revolution. I give up on rage, which at this point has become a formality, and make a mental note to get angry in the morning.”