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Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
Sara Gruen
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Sara Gruen
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Vancouver
British Columbia
Circus
Shouldn
Hell
Running
Away
More quotes by Sara Gruen
I just can't. I'm married. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.
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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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Although, pretending not to notice is almost worse than noticing.
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Honey, I plan to marry you the moment the ink is dry on that death certificate.
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They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.
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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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Do you have any idea how much an elephant drinks?
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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 roll onto my side and stare out the venetian blinds at the blue sky beyond. After a few minutes I'm lulled into a sort of peace. The sky, the sky--same as it always was.
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It's as though I've been sleepwalking and suddenly woken to find myself here
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Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.
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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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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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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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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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Being the survivor stinks.
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When two people are meant to be together, they will be together. It's fate.
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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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I don't like outlining, because books are organic things. Sometimes a book doesn't want to be written in a certain way.
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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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