And I thanked mi papa who'd always said to me that we, los Indios, the Indians, were like the weeds. That roses you had to water and giver fertilizer or they'd die. But weeds, indigenous plants, you gave them nada-nothing; hell you even poisoned them and put concrete over them, and those weeds would still break the concrete.
Victor VillasenorOh, if only I could hurt with such misery once again, to feel the powers of love here inside my heart, the joys of heaven and the pains of hell!
Victor VillasenorWomen have to be careful to not wear out their husbands on their honeymoons, or they get so weak that they can't go to work!
Victor VillasenorNo, you are not to complain or question who you are, but instead, grow, reaching for the light that's inside you.
Victor Villasenor