You can always spot bright people. They are reading a book.

I was the first Chicano to write in complete sentences.

It appears these days I don't have much of a life because my nose is often stuck in a book. But I discovered that reading builds a life inside the mind.

The black asphalt wouls shimmer with vapors I had a theory about those vapors...not released by the sun but by a huge onion buried under the city. This onion made us cry... I thought about the giant onion, that remarkable bulb of sadness.

going back and forth, back and forth, getting nowhere

Dirt rolls from his palm, Blades of grass Tumble from his hair.

Because nothing should be wasted In a world where sparrows work hard To prove there is enough.