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Must protect my little pockets of happiness.

Sara Gruen

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Sara Gruen
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Vancouver
British Columbia
Pockets
Protect
Happiness
Littles
Little
Must

More quotes by Sara Gruen

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Jacob: I've never seen so much manure. Wade: Baggage stock horses. They pack'em in 27 a car. Jacob: how do you stand the smell? Wade: what smell?
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I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I want.
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Dear God. Not only am I unemployed and homeless, but I also have a pregnant woman, bereaved dog, elephant, and eleven horses to take care of.
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They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.
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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.
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Being the survivor stinks.
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I look after those who look after me. He smacks his lips, stares at me, and adds, I also look after those who don't. - Sara Gruen (Water for Elephants)
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Sometimes I think if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.
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I'm truly grateful for my microwave, which allows me to easily clarify butter, steam vegetables, and - when I am really lazy - feed my three kids in less than five minutes.
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Then I lie down on the horse blanket and drift into a dream about Marlena that will probably cost me my soul.
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Although there are times I'd give anything to have her back, I'm glad she went first. Losing her was like being cleft down the middle. It was the moment it all ended for me, and I wouldn't have wanted her to go through that.
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I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.
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...if you expect people to try to do things your way, you're going to have to give some hints as to what that way is.
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I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.
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It's as though I've been sleepwalking and suddenly woken to find myself here
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I have to convince myself that this is not a pointless life, even the body is telling me so.
Sara Gruen
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You work hard on a book and throw it out there and then it's beyond your control.
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I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I lie motionless, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. I'm afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.
Sara Gruen
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How is it that everyone on this train has so much alcohol? We always head to Canada at the beginning of the season, she says taking her seat again. Their laws are much more civilized. Cheers.
Sara Gruen
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The only thing that makes me crazier than writing is not writing.
Sara Gruen