Tree of Sighs Quotes

“I was nameless, a woman in a dim bar full of anonymous bodies and next to a man who radiated too much heat. My senses were sparking and snaking like a live wire torn down by a storm.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“His words, smooth and muscular, glided from his lips like a snake cutting through water.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“He leaped into the air as if he imagined he could take off and fly, then jerk-kicked his legs at odd angles, flung his arms up and out, elbows bent, forearms hanging. Exclamation marks in midair.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“Individual words lay like pearls inside my head, but when I tried to string them together in a coherent line, the thread broke and the dots of white rolled away into the blue.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“It had been a long time since I’d thought in terms of signs and omens. Back in the Midwest folks went in for that sort of thing even less than Grandmother had.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“But physical distance leads to emotional distance.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“the most I could muster was to strive to be a woman of the present and near-present tense.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“It occurred to me that it was wonderful the way people could create their own beauty from what was available to them.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“Why should Judas be hated for doing what he was destined to do? For helping Jesus fulfill his destiny? I had asked Sister Encarnación that same question once, long before the fall of my family, but the ruler-smack the nun gave me on the palm of my hand taught me to keep my unholy questions to myself.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“survivors were defined by their ability to accommodate to their circumstances, and that meant facing reality head on.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“I wasn’t really that clear on what communist meant, but when Papi said that Jesus himself was closer to being a communist than a capitalist, the blood drained right out of Grandmother’s face.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“Papi admired the way Fidel stood up to the gringos, but Grandmother said his courage against the americanos was no reason to overlook that he was an atheistic communist.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“I didn’t understand why she was always living in the past, why she couldn’t just enjoy now. Of course at the time I had so little past myself that I didn’t understand its lure.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“I’m sorry,” Mamá said. “No, no.” I stroked the trembling hand. My mother’s life was one long I’m sorry. She apologized so often that the words became only a murmur, background noise like women praying the rosary at a wake. I silently wished she would shut up.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“Respect and good manners, she often said, didn’t cost anything, yet they were the frosting on the cake of life. That frosting was sometimes too sweet for my tastes.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“like most children, my present tense concerned me much more than the past tense of adults.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“I told myself to concentrate on my needle, in, out, in, out. But the bees buzzed around the orange blossoms, the constant drone lulling me, and I vaguely reminded myself to ask Chelo later if she thought the bees might be sipping a bit of some lost soul along with the nectar.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“Chelo, our housekeeper, told me that the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees were lost spirits snagged on the branches and calling out. How they sighed and moaned. They’re searching, Chelo would say, and when I asked for what, she’d laugh and answer, ¿Qué sé yo? What do I know? Chelo and I never mentioned the significance of those sighs to Grandmother, because she, like our parish priest, didn’t approve of “superstitious nonsense.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs

“Those were the days of innocence, days that had not yet taught me that freedom can be a synonym for freefall.”
― Lucrecia Guerrero, Tree of Sighs