The Old Man and the Sea
"I don’t think I can eat an entire one," he said and drew his knife across one of the strips. He could feel the steady hard pull of the line and his left hand was cramped. It drew up tight on the heavy cord and he looked at it in disgust.
"What kind of a hand is that," he said. "Cramp then if you want. Make yourself into a claw. It will do you no good." (3.31, 3.32)
I hate a cramp, he thought. It is a treachery of one’s own body. It is humiliating before others to have a diarrhea from ptomaine poisoning or to vomit from it. But a cramp, he thought of it as a calambre, humiliates oneself especially when one is alone. (3.55)
"I told the boy I was a strange old man," he said. "Now is when I must prove it."
The thousand times that he had proved it meant nothing. Now he was proving it again. Each time was a new time and he never thought about the past when he was doing it.
I wish he’d sleep and I could sleep and dream about the lions, he thought. Why are the lions the main thing that is left? (3.3.76-3.78)