“What do you think was the first sound to become a word, a meaning?...I imagined two people without words, unable to speak to each other. I imagined the need: The color of the sky that meant 'storm.' The smell of fire taht meant 'Flee.' The sound of a tiger about to pounce. Who would worry about these things?And then I realized what the first word must have been: ma, the sound of a baby smacking its lips in search of her mother's breast. For a long time, that was the only word the baby needed. Ma, ma, ma. Then the mother decided that was her name and she began to speak, too. She taught the baby to be careful: sky, fire, tiger. A mother is always the beginning. She is how things begin.”

“ I think of the chimp, the one with the talking hands. In the course of the experiment, that chimp had a baby. Imagine how her trainers must have thrilled when the mother, without prompting, began to sign her newborn. Baby, drink milk. Baby, play ball. And when the baby died, the mother stood over the body, her wrinkled hands moving with animal grace, forming again and again the words: Baby, come hug, Baby come hug, fluent now in the language of grief.”

“as she walked back to her husband, lola thought about lying on her expensive sheets and holding a baby - their baby - to her breast. to the baby, lola would smell like a mother, and the ridiculous chandelier would look like stars. ”

“Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb? Mother do you think they'll like this song? Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls?Mother should I build the wall?Mother should I run for president?Mother should I trust the government?Mother will they put me in the firing line?Mother am I really dying?Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true.Mother's gonna put all her fears into you.Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing.She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing.Mama will keep baby cozy and warm.Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,Of course mama'll help to build the wall.Mother do you think she's good enough -- to me?Mother do you think she's dangerous -- to me?Mother will she tear your little boy apart?Mother will she break my heart?Hush now baby, baby dont you cry.Mama's gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.Mama wont let anyone dirty get through.Mama's gonna wait up until you get in.Mama will always find out where you've been.Mama's gonna keep baby healthy and clean.Ooooh baby oooh baby oooh baby,You'll always be baby to me.Mother, did it need to be so high?”

“Mañana will always mean mañana. But for my first few months in Zacatecas, that was all I heard- mañana. It was a lovely sounding word and I began to think that it probably meant "heaven.”

“The baby understands that its mother loves it. [...] Words have their origin in baby talk, so words have their origin in love.”