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You work hard on a book and throw it out there and then it's beyond your control.

Sara Gruen

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Sara Gruen
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Vancouver
British Columbia
Beyond
Control
Book
Hard
Work
Throw

More quotes by Sara Gruen

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Do you have any idea how much an elephant drinks?
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Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
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The thought has cheered me, and I'd like to hang onto that. Must protect my little pockets of happiness.
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You do right by me, I'll show you a life most suckers can't even dream of.
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Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes I can't find myself any more. When did I stop being me?
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Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.
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I just can't. I'm married. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.
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I have to convince myself that this is not a pointless life, even the body is telling me so.
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Being the survivor stinks.
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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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With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.
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I hate this bizarre policy of protective exclusion, because it effectively writes me off the page.
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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.
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Honey, I plan to marry you the moment the ink is dry on that death certificate.
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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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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 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.
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Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.
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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.
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They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.
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