Richard Yañez
Goodreads Author
Born
in Lower Valley El Paso, The United States
Website
Twitter
Genre
Influences
Member Since
December 2010
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/richyanez
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More books by Richard Yañez…
“Over the years, Raul remembered many events like if they were TV shows, especially at night, like when he and Alberto cruised around town. The open windows, the wide space of the desert, allowed room for his thoughts to emerge. Some memories played over and over again, like the re-runs he watched during the summer. And depending on the events, he didn’t mind having to sit through them. At least his memories weren’t interrupted with commercials.
Click . . . Click . . . Click . . .”
― Cross Over Water
Click . . . Click . . . Click . . .”
― Cross Over Water
“It wasn’t permanent like the limestone cross that flagged the mountain peak in the horizon, so he made sure to write it down. After making the sign of the cross, a deep hunger pulled his weight to the bottom of La Loma.”
― Cross Over Water
― Cross Over Water
“Over the years, Raul remembered many events like if they were TV shows, especially at night, like when he and Alberto cruised around town. The open windows, the wide space of the desert, allowed room for his thoughts to emerge. Some memories played over and over again, like the re-runs he watched during the summer. And depending on the events, he didn’t mind having to sit through them. At least his memories weren’t interrupted with commercials.
Click . . . Click . . . Click . . .”
― Cross Over Water
Click . . . Click . . . Click . . .”
― Cross Over Water
“Lately, when asked, I have tended to say that I'm Mexican. I like the word because it still makes so many people flinch.”
― Confessions of a Berlitz-Tape Chicana (Volume 4)
― Confessions of a Berlitz-Tape Chicana (Volume 4)
“I look through the window at the huge valley lit up with different colors. The town is cradled by the dark mountains. From afar it looks as if nothing can get in or out, but judging by the stillness of the view it's as if the citizens have made peace with it and have settled without worry into their insular but protected haven each evening. There are people in the world, I imagine, who are born and die in the same town, maybe even in the same house, or bed. Creatures without migration: have they not lived a life because they have not moved? What of the migratory los González, moving from one place to another and marking every stopping place with angst? What kind of alternative is that? For once my father and I are thinking thinking the same way, sharing a similar yearning for our starting points to have been different, for our final destination to be anything other than the tearful, resentful arrival it is likely to be.”
― Butterfly Boy: Memories of a Chicano Mariposa
― Butterfly Boy: Memories of a Chicano Mariposa
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