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. — Sara Gruen Copy Share Image
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… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
“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… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
My platitudes don't hold their interest and I can hardly blame them for that. My real stories are all out of date. So what… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
“Then she turns to Midnight and perches delicately on his lowered back. He rises, arches his neck, and carries Marlena from the big top.… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
“And don’t miss Frank Otto, the world’s most tattooed man! Held hostage in the darkest jungles of Borneo and tried for a crime he… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
How is it that everyone on this train has so much alcohol?" "We always head to Canada at the beginning of the season," she… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
“The person following is never in control, which she knows full well and which is exactly why she does it.” — Sara Gruen Copy Share
“I open the orangutan's door and set a pan of fruits, vegetables, and nuts on the floor. As I close it, her long arm… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
“He whispers in her ear, and she basks in his attention, trumpeting happily at the sight of him. Doesn't she remember?” — Sara Gruen Copy Share
... a gaggle of old ladies is glued to the window at the end of the hall like children or jailbirds. They're spidery and… — Sara Gruen Copy Share
