Hernandez Quotes

I love the smell of rain and growing things.

i sink my life into your mouth, i hear the murmurs of space, and infinity seems to have emptied itself over me

There are no do-overs in life.

I do not believe that I should only write about what I know but that I should write also of the other.

Hey"--I shrugged--"If Aru Shah can have adventures in her pajamas, why can't I?

Naryan ang kaibhan ng armas sa isang ideya. Ang sandata'y nakagigiba't pumapatay lamang; ang ideya'y nakagigiba't nakabubuo, pumapatay at bumubuhay.

Ang bawa't bayani ay may kaukulang panahon, kung panong ang kapanahunan at mgapangyayaring umiiral ay lumilikha ng mga bayaning kailangan niya.

Using Pain To Relieve Pain. Doesn't Make Much Sense. But It Works.

Buenos dias," she said in response to Hernandez's soft greeting. They had a pact to speak only Spanish to each other, with the result that their conversation never got beyond hello and good-bye.

He says black, I say white and we do grey

Feminism is comprised of values that are important to you as a woman, not ideals arrived at by forced consensus to which you should adjust your own life.

Your Beauty Is What Counts <3

If it is not in your reach you don't need it.

It was too much to take a chance on, but too much to walk away from. It hurt when he [Neil] nodded, but it hurt more to see that tired look settle in Wymack's eyes. It wasn't the pity he thought he could see in Hernandez from time to time, but something familiar that said Wymack understood that it cost to be Neil. He knew what it was like to have to fight to wake up and keep moving every day.

They're indifference should not be the cause of your non-existence.

If you are going out beware of mangoes And all such beautiful sweet things.

Hindi masama ang dumayo sa banyagang lupalop upang paunlarin ang sarili. Pero kung ikaw e maunlad na'y dapat bumalik sa pinagmulan at du'n gamitin ang kaunlaran. Walang lupang dayuhan na maaari mong ipalit sa 'yong sinilangan.

Porque la muerte puede ser cualquier cosa. Un girasol recién cortado o un revólver humeante. O el rostro de la primera mujer que amamos cuando aún éramos niños y no sabíamos el tamaño de la desdicha que alberga la vida.

WHEN I’M GOOD, I’M VERY GOOD, BUT WHEN I’M BAD, I’M BETTER.”—MAE WEST.

Ang kagandahan ng demokrasya'y di lamang ang karapatan ng nakakarami upang mamahala, kundi angkapantay na karapatan ng kaunti upang sumalungat

Forgiveness and faith are like writing a story, they take time, effort, revisions.

I was in the situation of someone who has assumed, all his life, that madness was on eway, and suddenly in its grip, discovers that it is not only different from the way he'd imagined but that the person suffering from it is someone else, and that this someone else is not interested in finding out what madness is like: he is simply immersed in it, or it has descended on him, and that's that.

Let’s go back to Mr. Hernandez’s film literature class, back to Jaws. Mr. Hernandez pointed out that we never actually saw the shark until about eighty minutes into the film. Instead we heard horror stories, glimpsed its sinister fin; primed to be scared, so that when the shark made its grand debut, we saw everything we’d been taught to see, the merciless, blood-seeking Jaws. Before the cop pulled Philando over, he’d reported the man resembled a robbery suspect, commenting on his wide-set nose. By the time the cop stepped up to the window, he didn’t see Philando, he saw everything he thought he knew about wide noses, blackness, guns, added it all up to threat in his head. The problem is not who we are, the problem is what you think we are. The realities you cast on us; that Philando would be violent, that I’d ask for sex behind a dumpster.

Sales are proof that somebody is reading.

Ang katuturan ng karanasan at istoriya'y di ang pagtanda sa mga pangyayari, kundi ang pagtatamo ng aral sa kanila.

Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear.

I'd smacked directly into Florida's patent-pending Wall of Humidity.

I am Sal Vidon. Have I not proven that I am the MASTER OF CHICKENS?!

I think my show was more beautiful. Like, it would have made for prettier pictures on Insta. But now, we're gonna have way better memes.

Hindi kokonti ang kababayan nating sa akala nila'y pwede at mabuti ang maging estaranghero sila. Ginagawa nila ito sa wika, sa damit, sa kilos. Pati sa kanilang bahay e di na kinakausap ang mga anak kung di sa Ingles, ikinahihiyang magsuot ng barong katutubo, ayaw manood ng dula ar pelikula sa sariling wika, ayaw kumain ng kanin, at sumasama ang sikmura pagka humithit ng sigarilyong di imported. Subalit nagiging katatawanan lamang sila sa tingin ng kanilang mga hinuhuwad.

Dont give up unless by giving up you're gaining more than what you're fighting for

El miedo no lo mete en la cartera, pero lo lleva consigo a todas partes

You must feed yourself the truth because the world is sure to serve you lies.

Fear is your body trying to tell your brain what to do. But the brain is the king of the body. It calls the shots.

Qué se yo!” he answered. “Puede ser que un diablo glotón vino y se lo voló. Este mundo está lleno de demonios que se pasan el día entero haciendo trampas y trucos.

butt,

We are taught that these are dualisms: Jewish/Arab, public/private, visible/invisible, Black/white, privilege/oppression, pride/shame. But these are false separations that don't exist.

No, this is wonderful!” Mrs. Hernandez’ face turned into a wrinkle mosaic when she smiled. “It’s not what you give, but the spirit in which you give. That’s what’s important.” Rise was on the fast track to hell, if that was the standard. Her neighbor had trouble with a heavy box, so she reached to help, thinking it might slow her descent into the fiery pit of eternal damnation.

Because minor feelings are ongoing, they lend themselves more readily to forms and genres that are themselves serial, such as the graphic novel (the Hernandez Brothers, Adrian Tomine) or the serial poem (Wanda Coleman, Solmaz Sharif, Tommy Pico) or the episodic poetic essay (Bhanu Kapil, Claudia Rankine), but also, and more increasingly, are seen in literary fiction (Paul Beatty, Ling Ma).

I’m not sure I buy into the idea that my life is predetermined and I just have to wait for it to unfold.” “I think it’s more like you have a purpose to fulfill but you’re free to embrace it or not.

Ang kahapo'y saliga ng ngayon, at ang ngayo'y haligi ng kinabukasan. Gusto kong sabihi'y ang diwa ng ating mga bayaning nangabulid sa karimla'y siya ring dapat tumanglaw sa mga nagmamahal sa bayan sa panahong ito. Pagka't ang magiging bunga ng inyong mga gawai'y siyang magbibigay ng lakas sa hahaliling salin.

Napakaraming magaling na bagay ang dapat uliranin ng Pilipinas sa Amerika. Sa kasamaang palad, tulad ng ipinangamba ni Rizal, and unang pinulot ay ang masasamang halimbawa, ang mga bisyo at kahinaan. Tinangka ng karamihang Pilipino na magbuhay-Amerikano sa wika, sa damit, sa kilos at ugali, gayong ito’y hindi maaari kalian pa man. Pilit na ipinatatakwil sa kabataan ang huwad ng gaslaw at ikot ng sa banyaga, walang nais panoorin kundi mga laro, pelikula at ibang libangang dayuhan, walang nais basahin kundi mga babasahing sinulat ng dayo at limbag sa labas ng Pilipinas. Saan patutungo ang kabataang may ganitong kamulatan?

Oh<" said American Stepmom, nodding fast, her flying squirrel hoodie nodding one second slower than her head. "Yes, yes, of course. But What if the X factor starts to dance the electric bugaloo with my sonic screwdriver and I get sent back to ancient Egypt?

In this funny debut, flashy Filipino fashion designer Boy Hernandez sees his American dream become a nightmare when he’s ensnared in a terrorist plot and shipped to Guantanamo. Gilvarry nails the couture scene, but Boy’s rough journey from Manolo to Gitmo is no joke.

More often than not, I find identity politics to be defined narrowly in progressive circles. This can limit our work to build coalitions and solidarity across communities and movements because this leads us to simply replicate all that we want to eradicate in the world.

Carney was flattered that the Italian thought he had the scratch to buy the two buildings, that the white side of town recognized his successes, then quickly assumed something was wrong and Bongiovanni was dumping bum properties on him. The city itching to condemn, some expensive disaster in the sewer below, or the final version of the Curse of 125th and Morningside finally come due. None of that turned out to be true, although Mrs. Hernandez in apartment 3R of 381 had a mysterious stain in her bathroom wall that returned each time it was patched and repainted and which bore an eerie resemblance to Dwight Eisenhower, a curse if ever he heard one. “He stares at me,” she said.

Finally the bull charged, the horse leaders ran for the barrera, the picador hit too far back, and the bull got under the horse, lifted him, threw him onto his back. Zurito watched. The monos, in their red shirts, running out to drag the picador clear. The picador, now on his feet, swearing and flopping his arms. Manuel and Hernandez standing ready with their capes. And the bull, the great, black bull, with a horse on his back, hooves dangling, the bridle caught in the horns. Black bull with a horse on his back, staggering short-legged, then arching his neck and lifting, thrusting, charging to slide the horse off, horse sliding down. Then the bull into a lunging charge at the cape Manuel spread for him.

And that got him to realize that, dressed only in his bathrobe, he was just one gust of wind away from being sued by our entire neighborhood for crimes against humanity. Even now his Poocha Loocha Libre boxers were disturbingly visible. I'd seen them before-they were a Father's Day present from me-but never on him. So now I needed to go eat my own eyeballs.

In science there has to be proovable evidence for something to be true, therefore God doesnt exist for scientists

The bravest phrase a woman can say is “I don’t know.

¿Qué necesitan aprender los participantes para que sean capaces de llevar a cabo determinado objetivo de desempeño?

With birth there is always pain,” she explained kindly. “And you are being born anew. It will take some time to find your feet again.

Hope is the thing you lose before you lose everything else.

I’d say he’s about 5’12,” Sebastian said. “That’s 6’,” Whisky said. “Yeah, same thing.

Claudette looked to the ground like an embarrassed sheep who had been informed that it was frequently used as a description for timidity.

tried the My Little Pony approach to handling bullies. “Sorry. Just trying to help.” And I started to walk away.

Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear.” —e. e. cummings

We have been more than one year without him, and just now we are starting to see things again.

outside the watchmaker shop. It was sandwiched between a deli and a bakery and only time would tell if a condiment store would strap on in its place.

La independencia financiera es llegar a ese punto en que su dinero esté a su servicio, y le permita hacer todas aquellas cosas que realmente quiere hacer.

Success is a journey, not a destination.

El futuro es el resultado de las decisiones que tomamos en el presente. O, dicho de otro modo, el presente es el resultado de las decisiones que tomamos en el pasado.

No eres pobre porque no tienes dinero. Eres pobre porque no tienes un sueño. – Randy Gage.

[Dona Queta] says that her motherly advice is always the same: 'Only whores, thieves, and cops go out at night. Which one are you, asshole?' p. 157

if your not your self who are you

Ahí viene la noche lo mas probable es que duermas ahí viene la noche lo mas seguro es que mueras

My goal is not to have everlasting fame, it is simply to write the stories that are asking me to write them and to share them with the people that want to hear them.

There is an audience for everything; our job as writers is to do the work and provide readers with a choice.

Love will work no matter what job i have, what nationality I claim, or what street i live on. It will work even if i kiss a woman. and it does.

El mundo es cruel y le pertenece a gente como yo

Science can make the legs of a dead frog dance by running electricity through them. But that doesn’t mean dead frogs like to dance.

Sometimes I just need to be alone with what I believe in.

Two women in love confirms for me that there is a love that can push you beyond what everyone else says is possible. I

«la explicación más simple y suficiente es la más probable, mas no necesariamente la verdadera».

femininity was not exclusive to soft spoken words and fancy dress, and that embracing more traditional “feminine things'' in no way made anyone weaker.

Because you don’t owe them your trauma. No one has a right to know who you are and if you don’t want them to.” -Dr. Hartfield

and started to unlock the door. On the other side of the door, a bunch of voices started talking at the same time. “What the—?” “Oh God, it’s late! We’re behind schedule!” “We gotta hide the—!” “Stall them! Stall them!” I don’t know about you, but that sounded like a burglary in progress to me. Gabi and I traded looks. “Who’s in your house?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I said.

Su presencia es tan clara como su ausencia. Epicuro de Samos, filósofo griego del S. IV a. C. dijo: «la muerte es una quimera pues cuando yo estoy, ella no está; y cuando ella está, yo no».

Your spirit already experiences God’s joy, love, peace, power, and holiness. In the Spirit, you know God. In the Spirit, you are complete, always connected with God. In the spirit, you are free.

Don't settle for stuff. That's pretty much the only thing I learned in life. You see something, some chance for something great, you take it. You grab your keys and jump on your bike and go, no regrets.

We have…Settled into a region called “don’t ask don’t tell” and it is hard, i imagine for people who have not experienced this to understand the weight of silence and how the absence of language can feel like a death

What we do know is that Aaron Hernandez was an escape artist. On the football field, no one could catch him. In Florida, he was a few steps removed from a terrible shooting that no one had answered for. In Boston, he almost certainly committed a double murder that he got away with. And when Aaron was caught, and convicted, for Odin Lloyd’s murder, he continued to find new ways to escape. By killing himself, he escaped a long life behind bars.

Cuando me muera y me tengan que enterrar Quiero que sea con una de tus fotografaas Para que no me de miedo estar abajo Para que no se me olvide como es tu cara Para imaginar que estoy contigo Y sentirme un poquito vivo...

for the goddess Danray is the goddess of both battle and transition. That is why both the butterfly and the phoenix are so prevalent in Danrayen culture. They are both creatures undone to become something more than they once were.

Men DO NOT emotionally process love anything close to the way that women process love. When expressing your sincere devotion and love for a man---the best way to say it, is to put on G-string panties, and then SHOW HIM with a swallow.

I don’t care about Hernandez.” Grace paused and looked into his coal black eyes. “I care about you.” “What does that mean?” “It means—” She paused and smiled to herself. “It means we’re hoeing a long row of summer cotton.” She smiled to herself and thought of Richard Garza. “You and I. Andrés Segovia and Grace Delgado. Lots of weeds, Andrés. And we’re hoeing. We’re hoeing as fast as we can. And if we don’t get the roots, then the weeds will grow back. And all our work will be for nothing.

Despite their depressing circumstances, the Hernandez family had a certain dignity and strength about them. They were Christians, and they taught their children that God loved them and had a plan for their lives. Their little boy, David, internalized that message of hope. He never thought of himself as a victim even though he had every reason to feel cheated. His family was at the bottom of the social ladder without even a house to live in, but his worth as an individual was rooted in his faith.

I ventured to believe that the function of the border wasn’t only to keep people out, at least that was not its long-term function. Its other purpose was to be visible, to be seen, to be carried in the imaginations of migrants deep into the interior of the country, in the interior of their minds. It was a spectacle meant to be witnessed by the world, and all of its death and violence was and continues to be a form of social control, the way that kings of the past needed to behead only one petty thief in the public square to quell thousands more.

Por una senda van los hotelanos que es la sagrada hora del regreso con la sange injuriada por el peso de inviernos,primaveras y veranos Vienen de los esfuerzos sobrehumanos y van a la canción,y van al beso, y van dejando por el aire impreso un olor de herramientas y de manos

When I came undocumented to the U.S., I crossed into a threshold of invisibility. Every act of living became an act of trying to remain visible. I was negotiating a simultaneous absence and presence that was begun by the act of my displacement: I am trying to dissect the moment of my erasure. I tried to remain seen for those whom I desired to be seen by, and I wanted to be invisible to everyone else. Or maybe I was trying to control who remembered me and who forgot me. But I couldn’t control what someone else saw in me, only persuade them that it was an illusion. There were things that I could not hide, things that would come out of me and expose me in my most vulnerable moments. It was my skin, my dark hair, my cheekbones, that I swore would give me away. I was afraid of the way I walked. It was easy to imagine being hit by a car, because even if they didn’t see me, I would for once be able to feel my body as more than smoke.

[...] the "explosion" of Mexicans crossing the border without permission was entirely predictable. It was the inevitable consequence of of policies that slashed opportunities to migrate legally without addressing the forces pushing and pulling people across the line. People who had lived their lives across two countries legally and peacefully for decades were suddenly redefined as invaders and threats. The "Illegal immigrant" was thus invented in Washington, D.C., conjured out of contradiction.

I look at the white woman’s cards and listen to her bold English words—dog, cat, house—and there is all the evidence of what is to come in my life. I am not to go the way of the two people I long for in the thick terror of the night. The first man I love and the first woman I adore, my father and my mother with their Spanish words, are not in these cards. The road before me is English and the next part too awful to ask aloud or even silently: What is so wrong with my parents that I am not to mimic their hands, their needs, not even their words?

It's like the difference between looking at a person and looking through their eyes." "That's how I feel about eating," Sirine interjects, and some of them laugh. Aziz lifts his chin and lowers his eyes silkily. "Please tell us more." "Well, I mean..." She fumbles for words and tears apart a slice of bread, trying to think what she means. "Something like... tasting a piece of bread that someone bought is like looking at that person, but tasting a piece of bread that they baked is like looking out of their eyes." "Fabulous metaphor," Aziz says. Nathan lifts his head. "That's giving other people power over you." "No more than usual," Aziz says. "Somebody's always going to have the power, and somebody's always got to bake the bread." He turns and smiles suavely at Sirine. "You've got the soul of a poet! Cooking and tasting is a metaphor for seeing. Your cooking reveals America to us non-Americans. And vice versa." "Chef isn't an American cook," Victor Hernandez says. "Not like the way Americans do food- just dumping salt into the pot. All the flavors go in the same direction. Chef cooks like we do. In Mexico, we put cinnamon in with the chocolate and pepper in the sweetcakes, so things pull apart, you know, make it bigger?

En casi todas las vidas existe una noche en donde las negruras del sufrimiento se precipitan; una noche oscura del espíritu, cuyo tenebroso recuerdo nos persigue hasta en los más irisados días de después. Noche durante la cual todo el amargo sentido de la existencia se destila segundo a segundo, en el insomnio. Hasta esa noche no se sabe la verdadera extensión de las horas. En ella los miedos no logran tomar voz, y se quejan las cosas con misteriosos ruidos, y palpitan los relojes queriendo adelantarse para escapar al deber de medir minutos tan hondos, y el viento y los perros ululan, y cantan los gallos ávidos de forzar el alba.

A Conspiracy Theory that took hold was introduced by Anthony “Tony” Summers, the respected author of The Kennedy Conspiracy, published in 1980 and again in 1998 as “Not in Your Lifetime.” He believes that anti-Castro activists, funded by Mafia mobsters who had been ousted from Cuba, killed Kennedy. Summers believes that members of the CIA took part in this conspiracy and named the people he suspected. Summers also stated in an article published in the National Enquirer magazine, on October 25, 2013, that Lee Harvey Oswald didn’t act alone. The National Enquirer stated that Herminio Diaz, born in Cuba in 1923, had, in 1948, shot Pipi Hernandez, who was a Dominican exile employed at the naval base at Guantanamo. This killing took place at the Cuban Consulate in Mexico. In 1957, he was involved with an assassination attempt against President José Figueres of Costa Rica, who incidentally was a trained Army Ranger and a graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point. According to JFKFacts published on May 27, 2014, General Fabián Escalante, the historian of Cuban State Security and Castro’s former bodyguard, said that the assassin Herminio Diaz, along with Eladio del Valle and three American mobsters: Richard Gaines, Lenny Patrick, and Dave Yara, were the shooters at Dealey Plaza.

1. Usa tus talentos y dones lo mejor que puedas, te los dieron para eso. 2. Honra a tus antepasados. 3. Usa tus emociones como un sistema de guía para reconocer dónde estás y hacia dónde deseas ir. 4. El mayor poder siempre vendrá de la humildad en el momento presente. 5. Acepta todo al punto de aceptar lo que no puedes aceptar. 6. Cuando estés en duda, pausa y espera 24 horas. 7. Recuerda que a veces el coraje es mas importante que el conocimiento. 8. Visita el pasado solo para limpiarlo, cultivarlo y bendecirlo. 9. Invita al “maestro” a entrar en escena cada vez que pierdas la perspectiva, o te sientas en un callejón sin salida. MAESTRO ENTRA EN ESCENA.

One night, walking on the street in the Colonia Portales, I become startled by my own train of thought. I am desperately poor right now, surviving on coffee, orange juice, and beer ('grain juice'), and tacos. Gigs for writers don't come easy. I am angry and depressed and feverish. I had moved to Mexico City on a whim and I knew it would be hard. What I fail to expect is that the delinquency mind-set would take over my brain. Who would stop me, I think, who would catch me, if I hop into that cab coming my way and start barking directions? Who would know or care if I held a knife to the driver's throat, demanded all his money, and threatened to kill him if he made any further moves? How would I feel when I got home at night, finally able to eat properly? p 123-4

Un maestro de tercero básico estaba enseñando a sus alumnos sobre las capas de la tierra.  Decidió incorporar a todas las inteligencias posibles. Primero, contó una historia a los niños sobre un viaje al centro de la tierra (lingüística).  Luego, les pidió explicar cómo se sentirían al participar en un viaje así (intrapersonal). Seguidamente, les pidió que hicieran un modelo con diferentes colores de plastilina mostrando las capas de la tierra (visual, cinética). En la clase de matemáticas les dio problemas relacionados con la temperatura y el grosor de las diferentes capas. En música aprendieron una canción sobre el tema. Finalmente, los dividió en parejas y pidió a cada uno que elaborara 3 preguntas sobre el tema para hacer a su compañero y que contestara las preguntas que el otro le hici

¿De qué estás hablando? ¿Porque están tan tristes?... ¿Acaso eres el único que no sabe lo que sucedió en Jerusalén en estos días pasados? Nosotros esperábamos que este iba a redimir a Israel. Lucas 24:13-18 Este pequeño resumen de Lucas 24 fue en sí el gran dilema ocurrido durante los días del primer siglo con la muerte y resurrección de Yeshua. Pero como en aquel entonces, hoy de la misma forma tenemos a muchos que no saben lo que verdaderamente ocurrió dos mil años atrás cuando Yeshua dijo, “Consumado es.” El Creador no quiere que seamos tontos en cuanto a nuestra fe y nuestra relación con Él. Mucho menos que seamos ciego en cuanto a nuestra posición dentro de su Reino. Debemos estudiar y entender todo lo hablado por Moisés y los profetas, y sobre todo, conocer el pensamiento y entendimiento de los apóstoles que abrazaron verdaderamente a Yeshua como su “Melek” (Rey) en el primer siglo. Es como único podremos conocer el contexto de lo que

Hurry up!” everyone in the room seemed to shriek at the same time. It didn’t matter to us that all over Pittsburgh, in every house and in every bar, thousands of others were undoubtedly carrying out their own rituals, performing their own superstitions. Hats were turned backward and inside out, incantations spoken and sung, talismans rubbed and chewed and prayed to. People who had the bad fortune of arriving at their gathering shortly before the Orioles’ first run were treated like kryptonite and banished willingly to the silence of media-less dining rooms and bathrooms, forced to follow the game through the reactions of their friends and family. And every one of those people believed what we believed: that ours was the only one that mattered, the only one that worked. Ruthie fumbled through the pages. Johnson fouled one off. “Got it!” Ruthie called. She stood and held Dock Ellis’s picture high over her head, Shangelesa’s scribbled hearts like hundreds of clear bubbles through which her father could watch the fate of his teammates. “He’s no batter, he’s no batter!” Ruthie sang. Johnson grounded the next pitch to shortstop Jackie Hernandez, who threw to Bob Robertson at first, and the threat was over. We yelled until we were hoarse. We were raucous and ridiculous and unashamed, and I have no better childhood memory than the rest of that afternoon. Blass came back out for the ninth, heroically shrugging off his wobbly eighth and, with Ruthie still standing behind us, holding the program shakily aloft for the entirety of the inning, he induced a weak grounder from Boog Powell, an infield pop-up from Frank Robinson, and a Series-ending grounder to short from Rettenmund. For the second inning in a row, Hernandez threw to Robertson for the final out, and all of us (or those who were able) jumped from our seats just as Blass leaped into Robertson’s arms, straddling his teammate’s chest like a frightened acrobat. Any other year, Blass would have been named the Most Valuable Player, and his performance remains one of the most dominant by a pitcher in Series history: eighteen innings, two earned runs, thirteen strikeouts, just four walks, and two complete game victories. But this Series belonged to Clemente. To put what he did in perspective, no Oriole player had more than seven hits. Clemente had twelve, including two doubles, a triple and two homeruns. He was relentless and graceful and indomitable. He had, in fact, made everyone else look like minor leaguers. The rush