The One and Only Ivan

Memories are precious ... they help tell us who we are.

I like colorful tales with black beginnings and stormy middles and cloudless blue-sky endings. But any story will do.

Humans waste words. They toss them like banana peels and leave them to rot. Everyone knows the peels are the best part.

They think I'm too old to cause trouble. Old age is a powerful disguise.

Homework, I have discovered, involves a sharp pencil and thick books and long sighs.

A good zoo," Stella said, "is a large domain. A wild cage. A safe place to be. It has room to roam and humans who don't hurt." She pauses, considering her words. "A good zoo is how humans make amends.

It's hard to put into words. Gorillas are not complainers. We're dreamers, poets, philosophers, nap takers.

Is there anything sweeter than the touch of another as she pulls a dead bug from your fur?

I always tell the truth, Stella replies. Although I sometimes confuse the facts.

Her eyes hold the pale moon in them, the way a still pond holds stars.

Right now I would give all the yogurt raisins in all the world for a heart made of ice.

With enough time, you can get used to almost anything.

When I'm drawing a picture, I feel...quiet inside.

The names are mine, but they're not me.

I was born in a place humans call central Africa, in a dense rain forest so beautiful, no crayons could ever do it justice.

But hunger, like food, comes in many shapes and colors.

it's never to late to be what you might have been

Humans speak too much. They chatter like chimps, crowding the world with their noise even when they have nothing to say.

Anger is precious. A silverback uses his anger to maintain order and warn his troop of danger. When my father beat his chest, it was to say, Beware, listen, I am in charge. I am angry to protect you, because that is what I was born to do. Here in my domain, there is no one to protect.

Romance Make eye contact. Show your form. Strut. Grunt. Throw a stick. Grunt some more. Make some moves. Romance is hard work. It looks easy on TV. I'm not sure I will ever get the hang of it.

My visitors are often surprised when they see the TV Mack put in my domain. They seem to find it odd, the sight of a gorilla staring at tiny humans in a box. Sometimes I wonder, though: Isn't the way they stare at me, sitting in my tiny box, just as strange?

Growing up gorilla is just like any other kind of growing up. You make mistakes. You play. You learn. You do it all over again.

Humans. Rats have bigger hearts. Roaches have kinder souls. Flies have-

All day, I watch humans scurry from store to store. They pass their green paper, dry as old leaves and smelling of a thousand hands, back and forth and back again. They hunt frantically, stalking, pushing, grumbling. Then they leave, clutching bags filled with things - bright things, soft things, big things - but no matter how full the bags, they always come back for more. Humans are clever indeed. They spin pink clouds you can eat. They build domains with flat waterfalls. But they are lousy hunters.

My family tree spreads wide as well. I am a great ape, and you are a great ape, and so are chimpanzees and orangutans and bonobos, all of us distant and distrustful cousins. I know this is troubling. I too find it hard to believe there is a connection across time and space, linking me to a race of ill-mannered clowns. Chimps. There's no excuse for them.

It’s not so bad, I wanted to tell the little boy. With enough time, you can get used to almost anything.

My life is flashing lights and pointing fingers and uninvited visitors. Inches away, humans flatten their little hands against the wall of glass that separates us. The glass says you are this and we are that and that is how it will always be.