It was the only secret I kept from her...

In the entire history of our marriage, it was the only secret I kept from her, and eventually it became impossible to fix. With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.
-Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants, 327

I want her to melt into me...

Afterward, she lies nestled against me, her hair tickling my face. 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 want.
I lie motionless, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. I’m afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.
-Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants, 273

There are times I'd give anything...

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. Being the survivor stinks.
-Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants, 13

What, now I have no sense of humor?

“I know that,” I say. “What, now I have no sense of humor?”
But I’m grumpy because maybe I don’t. I don’t know anymore. I’m so used to being scolded and herded and managed and handled that I’m no longer sure how to react when someone treats me like a real person.
-Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants, 176

Age is a terrible thief...

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.
-Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants, 12

I catch sight of my hands...

I reach for the napkin, and as I do I catch sight of my hands. They are knobby and crooked, thin-skinned, and - like my ruined face - covered with liver spots. My face. I push the porridge aside and open the vanity mirror. I should know better by now, but somehow I still expect to see myself. Instead I find an Appalachian apple doll, withered and spotty, with dewlaps and bags and long floppy ears. A few strands of white hair spring absurdly from its spotted skull.
-Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants