Perhaps the best god would be like a woman, because only women really knew how to forgive

Ultima came to stay with us the summer I was almost seven. When she came the beauty of the llano unfolded before my eyes, and the gurgling waters of the river sang to the hum of the turning earth. The magical time of childhood stood still, and the pulse of the living earth pressed its mystery into my living blood.

The germ of creation lies in violence.

The past seems to infuse into the present, and in the brown, wringled faces of the old people one sees the presence of the past.

Sometimes a man has to cry. Even if he is a man.

It seemed the more I knew about people the more I knew about the strange magic hidden in their hearts.

I had been afraid of the awful presence of the river, which was the soul of the river, but through her [Ultima] I learned that my spirit shared in the spirit of all things.

I've always used the technique of the cuento. I am an oral storyteller, but now I do it on the printed page. I think if we were very wise we would use that same tradition in video cassettes, in movies, and on radio.

Any land will flow with milk and honey if it is worked with honest hands!

The sun was good. The men of the llano were men of the sun. The men of the farms along the river were men of the moon. But we were all children of the white sun.

Understanding comes with life. As a man grows he sees life and death, he is happy and sad, he works, plays, meets people - sometimes it takes a lifetime to acquire understanding, because in the end understanding simply means having sympathy for people.