“But Alfanhui didn't want to abuse the rosemary, because one shouldn't tell a lot in one day, since the stories lose their strength.”

“A gypsy girl approached Don Zana and Alfanhui and held out her tambourine. Don Zana said to her, 'You don't pay for art, kid.”

“Madrid. It was that time, the story of Don Zana 'The Marionette,' he with the hair of cream-colored string, he with the large and empty laugh like a slice of watermelon, the one of theTra-kay, tra-kay, tra-kay,tra-kay, tra-kay, traon the tables, on the coffins. It was when there were geraniums on the balconies, sunflower-seed stands in the Moncloa, herds of yearling sheep in the vacant lots of the Guindalera. They were dragging their heavy wool, eating the grass among the rubbish, bleating to the neighborhood. Sometimes they stole into the patios; they ate up the parsley, a little green sprig of parsley, in the summer, in the watered shade of the patios, in the cool windows of the basements at foot level. Or they stepped on the spread-out sheets, undershirts, or pink chemises clinging to the ground like the gay shadow of a handsome young girl. Then, then was the story of Don Zana 'The Marionette.'Don Zana was a good-looking, smiling man, thin, with wide angular shoulders. His chest was a trapezoid. He wore a white shirt, a jacket of green flannel, a bow tie, light trousers, and shoes of Corinthian red on his little dancing feet. This was Don Zana 'The Marionette,' the one who used to dance on the tables and the coffins. He awoke one morning, hanging in the dusty storeroom of a theater, next to a lady of the eighteenth century, with many white ringlets and a cornucopia of a face.Don Zana broke the flower pots with his hand and he laughed at everything. He had a disagreeable voice, like the breaking of dry reeds; he talked more than anyone, and he got drunk at the little tables in the taverns. He would throw the cards into the air when he lost, and he didn't stoop over to pick them up. Many felt his dry, wooden slap; many listened to his odious songs, and all saw him dance on the tables. He liked to argue, to go visiting in houses. He would dance in the elevators and on the landings, spill ink wells, beat on pianos with his rigid little gloved hands.The fruitseller's daughter fell in love with him and gave him apricots and plums. Don Zana kept the pits to make her believe he loved her. The girl cried when days passed without Don Zana's going by her street. One day he took her out for a walk. The fruitseller's daughter, with her quince-lips, still bloodless, ingenuously kissed that slice-of-watermelon laugh. She returned home crying and, without saying anything to anyone, died of bitterness.Don Zana used to walk through the outskirts of Madrid and catch small dirty fish in the Manzanares. Then he would light a fire of dry leaves and fry them. He slept in a pension where no one else stayed. Every morning he would put on his bright red shoes and have them cleaned. He would breakfast on a large cup of chocolate and he would not return until night or dawn.”

“They had painted a lady leaning her arms on the sill of the window. This lady was waiting for a husband. Her flesh was slack and she was some forty-five years old. Perhaps she had been waiting since she was fifteen. A rose and mauve lady that had not yet gathered her flesh and her beauty into dark clothes, and still waited, like a rose stripped of its petals, with her faded colors and her artificial smile, bitter as a grimace.”

“‎..:There's a movie being recorded every day where the main character is you. As they say " all eyes on me". Difference is, is ur story, ur life, so, "all eyes on you." You are required to do and give your best at all times. Regardless what life throws at you... For at the end of the day, you'll be the one people are gonna be talking about. Most importantly, you are the one who is to face the Eternal One. The Director. You decide whether you do a great job and influce others with your performance here on earth. You decide if your movie will be seen and talked about for generations to come. Leave a great inspiring movie. Leave behind a great legacy... Have a great day:..”

“..: When the darkest hours and days come, one should always remember that they only come to grant us wisdom, knowledge and new opportunities for our lives… They only come to preprare us for the new levels we are to be promoted to... One must always remeber and keep in mind that It is only when one suffers that one can truly meet God as our comforter…It is when one seems to have come to the end of one's hope that one sees and experience the fullness of God in extremely new ways…It is then that one realizes that one can no longer rely on one's own self and that one must trust solely in God, who possesses the power to raise the dead. The dead dreams, passions, desires, goals and the broken families…Have a great day:..-R.G-”

“..:One can lose his job, his car, his house, his savings, his/her wife/husband and so for. And one can still manage to be able to start all over again. To overcome. But its dangerous and catastrophic when one loses his/her faith, hope and mind. When one enters into deep depression. For it could really destroy a person completely or it may take him/her twice as much work to get back up. This is why we are to constantly be renewing our minds. To keep putting oil to our fading lamps. Watering our drying lands. Repositioning ourselves now and then. And specially, helping each other out. It's not good for men to be alone. Two are better than one. For if one falls, the other will help him out. Before bad times come, prepare yourself. Equip yourself. Renew yourself so you could use the circumstances as wind beneath your wings and so you could see circumstances as what they are. Not what they may seem. Someone once said, "Circumstances and trials are just events." They are not people nor your final destination:..”