The Art of Racing in the Rain

by Garth Stein

when a dog is finished living his lifetimes as a dog, his next incarnation will be as a man.

“When I am racing, my mind and my body are working so quickly and so well together, I must be sure not to think, or else I will definitely make a mistake.”

However, I don’t understand why people insist on pitting the concepts of evolution and creation against each other. Why can’t they see that spiritualism and science are one?

had always wanted to love Eve as Denny loved her, but I never had because I was afraid. She was my rain. She was my unpredictable element. She was my fear. But a racer should not be afraid of rain; a racer should embrace the rain. I,

She asked for the fucking nuggets, now she’ll eat the fucking nuggets!”

The true hero is flawed. The true test of a champion is not whether he can triumph, but whether he can overcome obstacles—preferably of his own making—in order to triumph. A hero without a flaw is of no interest to an audience or to the universe, which, after all, is based on conflict and opposition, the irresistible force meeting the unmovable object.

To live every day as if it had been stolen from death, that is how I would like to live. To feel the joy of life, as Eve felt the joy of life. To separate oneself from the burden, the angst, the anguish that we all encounter every day. To say I am alive, I am wonderful, I am. I am. That is something to aspire to. When I am a person, that is how I will live my life.

If I ever find myself before a firing squad, I will face my executioners without a blindfold, and I will think of Eve. Of what she said. It is not the end.

Racing is about discipline and intelligence, not about who has the heavier foot. The one who drives smart will always win in the end.

Is it possible? That which is around me does not affect my mood; my mood affects that which is around me. Is it true?

“Don’t!” Mark snapped. “Let them be. Now is not the time for heroics. When you’re stuck in quicksand, the worst thing you can do is struggle.” “So now I’m stuck in quicksand?” Denny asked. “Dennis, you are in the quickest of all possible sand right now.”

Hands are the windows to a man’s soul.

Yes: the race is long—to finish first, first you must finish.

I don’t care for the heaviness of real rain; I like the misting, the feeling of the tiny droplets on my muzzle and eyelashes. The freshness of the air, which has been suddenly infused with ozone and negative ions. While rain is heavy and can suppress the scents, a light shower actually amplifies smells; it releases the molecules, brings odor to life, and then carries it through the air to my nose.

“There is no dishonor in losing the race,” Don said. “There is only dishonor in not racing because you are afraid to lose.”

The race is long. It is better to drive within oneself and finish the race behind the others than it is to drive too hard and crash.

wasn’t there because I am a dog, and dogs are not allowed in court.