Quotes from Sara Gruen

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

The person following is never in control, which she knows full well and which is exactly why she does it.

comparison. His eyes were hazel, and his arms ended in white bandages just below the elbows.

One Crow for sorrow, Two Crows for mirth, Three Crows for a wedding, Four Crows for a birth, Five Crows for silver, Six Crows for gold, Seven for a secret, never to be told.

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

no matter how hard you try you will never be perfect so just except it.

age is a terrible theif

I stared at him for a long time. If he wanted to end his search for the beast, he need look no further than a mirror.

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...

a gaggle of old ladies is glued to the window at the end of the hall like children or jailbirds. They're spidery and frail, their hair as fine as mist. Most of them are a good decade younger than me, and this astounds me. Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.---- There are five of them now, white headed old things huddled together and pointing crooked fingers at the glass.

In seventy years, I've never told a blessed soul.

Beneath it was a photograph of Hank alone, standing shirtless on the deck of a sailboat with his hands on his hips.

90/93-year-old Jacob wonders as he gazes at his aged reflection, 'When did I stop being me?

I want to knit socks for the soldiers. It's not as easy as that, she said, looking at me strangely. It's difficult to turn a good heel. There are competitions over it.

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

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.

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.

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

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

The longer I do this job, the less I like people. The species, of course," he adds grimly. "There are individuals I like just fine.

I'm glad has 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 are howling.

It's hard to reconcile this August with the other one. and to be honest I don't try very hard. I've seen flashes of this August before-This brightness, this conviviality, this generosity of spirit-but I know what he's capable of, and I won't forget it. The others can believe what they like, but I don't believe for a second that this is the real August and the other an aberration And yet I can see how they might be fooled-

Age is a terrible thief. 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 and silently spreads cancer throughout your spouse

Maybe it was me. Maybe I wanted to hate him because I'm in love with his wife, and if that's the case, what kind of man does that make me?