People From Texas

"“I need your help to find out who killed me.”"

"“You don’t do the right thing because it’s easy. You do it because it is right.”"

"“Justice is not for sale.”"

"“His father had yearned to give his family the American Dream, to make up for the Mexican Nightmare he had lived as an orphan, roaming from town to town begging for food during the Revolution, sleeping wherever he could find shelter or work. And still he toiled in the darkness of his tire shop on the south side of the river to support the family he both adored and despised on El Otro Lado. But, it was obvious to Fulgencio that his father’s daily crossing of the river failed to cleanse him of his demons, failed to purify him of his tormented thoughts. There were times when his father just had to hit someone, anyone standing nearby.”"

"“The beauty of Catholicism,” he had pontificated to his grandson, “is that even if you spent your entire life sinning, you can die moments after repenting and still get into Heaven. So live it up, Fulgencio. Just don’t let death catch you by surprise.”"

"“Without love, we’re dead.”"

"Parting ways in the plaza, Solitario sat tall in his saddle surveying the changing cityscape. A ball of tumbleweeds rolled aimlessly across the deserted plaza, drifts of dead leaves chasing after it, rustling in the incessant wind. He squinted at the cathedral from beneath his broad sombrero. He saw cracks growing in it with every passing moment. Yes, we will build wells, he thought in response to Elias’ question. The water may keep us alive, but it will no longer protect us from our neighbor to the north. Nobody had mentioned it openly yet, but surely others were thinking about it just as he was. With the river rerouted south, they were no longer in Mexico. Their fate rested not on La Virgen’s apparition, but in America’s hands."

"“When you’re a creative person the ideas come to you…it’s learning how to discern between the ideas I have that are just fun and fanciful but will never go anywhere, and the ideas that I have that might appeal to others.”"

"“Books can build bridges between worlds. When we travel across those bridges and walk in others’ shoes, our sense of empathy grows. Books are bridges that help us cross borders, bringing us closer together as human beings.”"

"“The ranches and their history at the crux of the U.S.-Mexico War play a palpable role in my novels. The ranches have personalities of their own. Caja Pinta is grand and majestic, a wide-open and spiritual place that connects its inhabitants to nature and to whatever lies beyond this material world. Some might call it magic. Others might call it God. Regardless, it is a place of boundless possibility. El Dos de Copas is small, scrappy and defiant. It is literally the lowest card in the Spanish deck of playing cards. But it keeps playing. It never gives up. It is a place of beleaguered hope.”"

"“What is a revolutionary…if not the architect of a new way of life?”"

"“The idea for the curse fit perfectly into my passion for magical realism, but it actually stems from a family legend that indeed the men in my family were cursed. Fortunately, for me, I believe it to be a very colorful – if symbolic – fiction, a more palatable way of explaining our human flaws and failures, our past inability to overcome the burdens of our own histories, social barriers, and bad habits.”"

"“[W]e can have progress together, but we have to acknowledge the wrongs of the past and we have to work hard to make things better together.”"

"“When it comes to borders I see bridges instead of walls. I see beginnings instead of endings. I see an opportunity for people to come together and build something constructively and collaboratively.”"

"“When we understand our histories and we can process the traumas that might have been passed down through the generations, we can better face these issues and also begin to heal as individuals and families. And, if you're a writer or an artist, you might find yourself with a life-changing project on your hands that is both enlightening and empowering.”"

"“In the case of Valley of Shadows, I sort of imagine, could the situation have been different had there been more people of color in positions of power? So it kind of turns the Western on its head by having a Mexican American sheriff be the person that’s trying to solve these crimes and bring justice to his town. … And by doing that, I wanted to create a story where the people that have often been marginalized in the telling of these histories have an opportunity to reclaim their place and their role in history.”"

"“I thought it would be fascinating to tell a story from the perspective of a Mexican-American lawman and an Apache healer. These characters come from communities that were facing tremendous hardships and persecution. Yet, they often fought for justice, stood up for their people, and even helped diverse communities survive at times when people had to band together – despite their differences – to overcome life-threatening situations. There are many untold stories of unsung heroes throughout the history of the Southwest. My hope is to help those forgotten people – that often gave their lives for their families and communities – attain a visible presence, an audible voice, and their respectful place in the modern American narrative.”"

"“They felt as if they were two glasses of water being poured into one larger container. Swirling and settling in the darkness.”"

"“We can’t forget our past. We must be vigilant of history’s injustices and atrocities. No matter what stone we turn, there is a story to be found. Sometimes it lies in plain sight on the surface. Other times it is hidden deep underground. And, more often than not, the architects of a place’s history have used the stone as a foundation upon which they’ve built a museum of illusions, an image of what they would like the truth to be, and how they would choose to see themselves—but also a structure that shadows and obfuscates the truth, leaving millions in the dark about their own proud histories.”"

"“As a native Texan, I was raised on the refrain of remembrance.”"

"“If we can acknowledge the failures of the past alongside its squandered potential, we can also remember and apply our insights and learnings to our present. It is a way we can envision becoming a better people, capable as a nation of emerging from the shadows of our own creation to fulfill the promise of liberty and justice for all.”"

"“If we can see into each other’s worlds, we can find common ground and appreciation and that can lead to good things: like lasting relationships, collaboration, love, and healing.”"

"“If you’re not careful, the blood that you carry inside will turn those dreams that you so love into nightmares.”"

"“She remembered her father’s words one day as they sat alone in the drugstore. He had said, waving his arms in a grand gesture, ‘It took me years to figure out that what truly heals is not all these drugs and medicines. No, no señorita. Only love can heal. The love of between two people. The love of family and home. The love you hear in a song or see in a painting or design. El amor vive eterno.’ Love lives eternal.”"

"“I think we’re all a little bit crazy. But once we figure that out, we can start doing something about it.”"

"“Borders are a motif in my writing. I was born and raised on the border, and my writing always takes me back there. They say you can take a person out of the border but you can't take the border out of a person. That saying definitely applies to me. Growing up, the border was an invisible line my family and I crossed every day. Because of that, I see borders as porous membranes through which people, animals, goods, services, and the environment must continuously traverse and transmit back and forth.”"

"“Standing in that same hut, all these years later, he fastened a bolo tie around his neck. He threw a black western jacket over his shoulders in one compact motion. He secured his gun in its shoulder holster. And he straightened his black Stetson with one hand while he combed his mustache with the other. He didn’t need a looking glass to tell him how he looked. It was high noon and time to go to the funeral. To meet Carolina once again. He kissed the ghost of his grandfather playing solitaire at the table. He plucked a single white rose that had sprung from the image of the Virgen de Guadalupe on the adobe wall. And he ducked into the blasting sun.”"

"“So strong had his voice become that people on neighboring ranches and farms would drag their rocking chairs onto their patios on the nights they knew he was visiting and listen to the corridos he and Fernando Cisneros sang, their voices carried on the gentle breezes of the Gulf for miles on end.”"

"“Don’t be afraid to love. If you love, you’ll never truly be alone.”"

"“In a way, diving into that Western and horror aspect of it, it felt like it freed me. It freed me up to have more fun with it in a way, maybe because I wasn’t taking myself or my writing as seriously and I was just having fun within those genres. I found it liberating. It’s weird to say, because you’re putting some constraints around yourself. But then within those constraints, you just opened up this universe within which I could have a lot of fun.”"

"“Someone drew a line in the sand, and we crossed back and forth until it disappeared.”"

"“If it’s a good idea, you just can’t give up on it, and eventually other people will recognize that it’s a good idea.”"

"“But now those days seemed long gone, as distant as the feeble stars dimmed by the growing lights of the city. And although his father would assault him no further with his fists or with his belt, a lonesome wrath twisted through him like a venomous knife, like the hunger he had known as a child, eating the thrice-refried beans that tasted like the dirt that mingled with the tears on the floor beneath the kitchen table. Maybe he had been given a chance at this Sueño Americano, but he felt inexplicably robbed of something greater.”"

"“This place is too pure for the Church. No, let the Church own the giant basilicas and ornate cathedrals. Let the Church own altars encrusted with gold and chambers draped in velvet. This place is for God and His creatures...for you and for me. This patch of salt will be here still after we’ve all expired, and after the church bells have tumbled to the ground, and after the towers have crumbled and washed out to sea. And even when the sun is silent and nothing but a ball of frozen, burnt-out gas, we’ll roam these flowing wisps of grass....”"

"Initially at 11.9 mph, [Perry] starts to decelerate or slow down to the apex of the turn to 9.8 mph and then continues to slow down until he comes to a stop. We were able to show, and actually know, that a tenth of a second before the first shot fired that Mr. Foster was 18 inches from the driver’s door. Ultimately able to show that you were able to see Mr. Foster from the area of his mid-thigh all the way to the top of his head. We didn’t do any trajectory analysis. I know in our analysis, we determined that the frame for the 22nd clip showed both of his feet on the ground in that one frame."

"I didn't even know what they were protesting about."

"I could tell that he was visibly distraught, I could hear the nervousness, the quiver in his voice. He said the protesters were attacking his vehicle."

"I wonder if they will let me cut off the ears of people who decide to commit suicide by me."

"If they attack me or try to pull me out of my car then yes."

"I have been publicly declared a racist because I drove around a protest to work. I am afraid of being attacked by people of this certain movement who happen to compare my people (Jewish people) to termites."

"I believe it was aimed at... I believe he was going to aim it at me. I didn't want to give him a chance to aim at me, ya know?"

"I might have to kill a few people on my way to work, they are rioting outside my apartment complex."

"Send them to Texas we will show them why we say don't mess with Texas."

"I made a wrong turn, a guy pointed a freakin weapon at me and I panicked. I don’t know what to do. I’m just an Uber driver. I made a wrong turn; I’ve never had to shoot someone before. They started shooting back at me, and I got out of the area. I am scared. I am terrified. I am worried that they are going to go after me, I’ve never had to defend myself before."

"Just keep shooting them until they are no longer a threat."

"Demands people are making are going to cause a lot of police to die...Fu** your and your protest. #bluelivesmatter. Shoot anyone until they are no longer a threat."

"I might go to Dallas to shoot looters."

"Frankly, I don't believe in luck. Everything happens for some purpose. To begin with, I'm alive. I shouldn't be; I should have been dead many times over. No, I can't walk too well, I'm missing one lung, and I lock up like an old rusty gate if I sit too long, but I am alive. Most of my buddies aren't; almost all of them are gone. Over fifty-eight thousand other guys that I didn't know died with them, but I'm alive, and I'm here, and I owe them the telling of this story. Every one of them had his own story. Maybe he just stepped off a plane one day and got it from a misplaced mortar round. Maybe he was walking back from the latrine when a sniper got him. Maybe he's a bigger "hero" than I'm supposed to be, but few are alive to tell the tale. Every one of those guys sacrificed his life, or his limbs, or his humanity, or his youth, or his mind, and I'm alive to tell about it. Up until now, nobody has really cared too much about hearing our side of it, our stories. Maybe it's different now. But I can't tell everybody's story. I can only tell mine. This is not a story about war. It's a story about freedom and its cost."

"When President Reagan placed the Congressional Medal of Honor around my neck, it all came racing back to me. The blood flooding the floor of the helicopter and gushing out of the doors as we banked and ran from that Cambodian jungle. The sights and sounds of my six hours in hell. The agony of the wounded and dying kept repetitively flashing through my mind while I watched the honor guard and heard the president, my commander-in-chief, read the details of the award. I was not ashamed of the tears that blinded my eyes."

"Like Doss and Inouye, Staff Sgt. Roy Benavidez embarked on a journey from poverty and prejudice to receive the highest accolades of a grateful nation. Born on Aug. 5, 1935, near Cuero, Texas, Benavidez’s given name at birth was Raul Perez Benavidez. He changed “Raul” to “Roy” when he joined the Army in 1955. The son of a Mexican farmer and a Yaqui Indian mother, Benavidez was a high school dropout and a troubled youth until he joined the Texas National Guard in 1952. Seven years later and after multiple overseas tours, Benavidez graduated from Airborne School at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. The school transformed Benavidez’s life. In his words, “Until I became Airborne, I had often allowed my temper and my insecurities to control the direction of my life.”"