"Qué strange was English. Rude and to the point. No one preceded a request with a —Will you not be so kind as to do me the favor of…, as one ought. They just asked! Nor did they add —If God wills it to their plans, as if they were in audacious control of their own destiny. It was a barbarous language! Curt as the commands of a dog trainer. —Sit. —Speak up. And why did no one say, —You are welcome. Instead, they grunted, —Uh-huh, without looking him in the eye, and without so much as a —You are very kind , mister, and may things go well for you.”
"My mother says when I get older my dusty hair will settle and my blouse will learn to stay clean, but I have decided not to grow up tame like the others who lay their necks on the threshold waiting for the ball and chain.
In the movies there is always one with red red lips who is beautiful and cruel. She is the one who drives the men crazy and laughs them all away. Her power is her own. She will not give it away.
I have begun my own quiet war. Simple. Sure. I am one who leaves the table like a man, without putting back the chair or picking up the plate.”
— Sandra Cisneros, “The House on Mango Street” (via lifeinpoetry)
"There are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt: swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you’re miles away from the neon lights of the city, bars after 2am, walking in the wilderness, all the phases of the moon, the things we do not know about the universe, and you.”