“Cutters read the land like a text. They search the manuscript of the ground for irregularities in its narration. They know the plots and the images by heart. They can see where the punctuation goes. They are landscape grammarians, got… — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
“Aztlán (“The Place of the Reeds”) was the traditional home of the Aztecs, a possibly mythical motherland from which the tribe ventured forth on… — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
With a name like Luis Alberto Urrea, it's political no matter what I do. — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
During grade school, we moved to a white, working-class suburb in San Diego, and there were no Mexicans. — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
I've been told not to tour down in Mexico. I am too well-known now. The kidnappers may think that my publisher will pay a… — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
“Braulio rises and extends his hands, making peace. " No hay pedo ," he says, the absurd lower-class slang for "There's no trouble here,"… — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
“This is how Heaven works. They're practical. We are always looking for rays of light. For lightning bolts or burning bushes. But God is… — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
We want to ascribe a kind of tragic grimness to people, but people are funny. — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
I came to believe the green fuse that drives spring and summer through the world is essentially a literary energy. That the world was… — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
“He couldn't believe she was real. She was like some dream, some story old men told youngsters. She made a fool out of him… — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
The world was more than a place. Life was more than an event. It was all one thing, and that thing was: story. — Luis Alberto Urrea Copy Share Image
