Shame is a bad thing, you know. It keeps you down.
You just remember to keep writing, Esperanza. You must keep writing. It will keep you free, and I said yes, but at that time I didn't know what she meant.
I want a house on a hill like the ones with the gardens where Papa works. (…) I am tired of looking at what we can't have. When we win the lottery… Mama begins, and then I stop listening.
People who live on hills sleep so close to the stars they forget those of us who live too much on earth. (…)
One day I'll own my own house, but I won't forget who I am or where I came from. Passing bums will ask, Can I come in? I'll offer them the attic, ask them to stay, because I know how it is to be without a house.