“God gives us all wings, and I'm using mine. The sun is out, And I have to fly, My wings will carry me. The wind will blow, And with my wings, I will reach the clouds, Shall I reach the sun? Nothing can stop me, I will spread my wings, As I do not fear falling, Today, I'll surely reach the heavens and kiss them.”

“Many of God's angels do not have wings...”

“I have reached the point in my life where I let my heart choose which paths to follow. I don't do this blindly. I take the time to think about it; about whether the path itself has a heart. Is it a good heart? Is it one of God's paths? If not, the path is of no use to me. But if it is a good path with a good heart, I will follow it to its end... excited, in awe, breathless.”

“I promise I shall never give up, and that I'll die sharing my stories and laughing with you and until then, I'll run around this world... Confessing my stories and making everyone else, confess their's to me.”

“Do not say I didn't loved youDo not say that I didn't give you,My love, body and soul.I gave my life for youI was thereI never failed,I surrendered my self.You did not accept me as I am,And every time I spread my wingsYou cut to them.You never wanted to acceptEveryone has a pastThe past is past.”

“As we crossed the border, I saw God in the sky in the form of huge sunburst cloud above the barren desert. He seemed to be pointing a finger at me and saying, "Pass here my son and go on, you're on the road to heaven.”

“At Angelita’s, my favorite food was a plain bean burrito in a flour tortilla. It was simple, but tasty! I loved bean burritos. They were my comfort food. They were my “little friends!” For my first day at school, my aunt made me three of them. She wrapped them up tightly in aluminum foil and then packed them in a brown paper sack. At lunchtime, in the cafeteria, I got ready to greet my little friends. I was nervous, as it was my first day of school, but I knew the burritos would soon warm my stomach and comfort me. I looked around the lunch room and saw other kids with their cafeteria trays and their perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crust neatly trimmed off and their bottle of juices and bags of Fritos and then . . . I pulled out a burrito. “Hey! What’s that?” A gringa girl shouted at me, pointing at my burrito. “Uh . . . nothing! Nada!” I replied as I quickly shoved it back into the sack. I was hungry, but every time I got ready to pull one out, it seemed as if there was another kid ready to stare and point at me. I was embarrassed! I loved my burritos, but in that cafeteria, I was ashamed of them. They suddenly felt very heavy and cold. They suddenly felt very Mexican. I was ashamed of my little friends and so . . . I went hungry.”