Benjamin Alire Saenz Quotes
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And why was it that some guys had tears in them and some had no tears at all? Different boys lived by different rules.
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Because rooms were always full, full of memories and voices and people who were either dead or impossible to love.
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I've learned a few things about ugly memories--they shoot through the heart like a bullet that maims and disfigures. A bullet that doesn't have the decency to kill.
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..they were always asking me lots of questions. Questions I didn't want to answer. They wanted to get to know me. Yeah, well, I wasn't interested in being known. I wanted to buy a t-shirt that read: I AM UNKNOWNABLE.
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If you want to be a writer, you don't want to live in a comfortable place.
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That’s what his mother had told him, that Mexico tasted of maíz and the hands of the women who’d made tortillas for a thousand years.
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Sometimes he feels as though God is nothing more than a set of jaws that bites down on his heart.
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I told you that there were only two things you needed to learn in life. You needed to learn how to forgive. And you needed to learn how to be happy.
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It could happen anytime. The finger tightens, pulls, and a bullet goes flying through the air. That's how remembering is.
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Maybe kissing was part of the human condition.
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Everywhere you went, you left something behind. Maybe someday he would come back and get it.
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I have always felt terrible inside. The reasons for this keep changing.
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But what really bugged the living crap out of me was that my mother had more friends than I did. How saw was that?
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It was a small idea. But at least the idea was mine.
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But you know we’re always going to have to rely on the goodwill of those of you who are straight for our survival. And that’s the damned truth.
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We all fight our own private wars.
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As I nodded my head to the beat, I started wondering what had gone through Richie Valens’s head before the plane crashed into the unforgiving ground. Hey, Buddy! The music’s over. For the music to be over so soon. For the music to be over when it had just begun. That was really sad.
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I thought masturbating was embarassing. I didn't even know why. It just was. It was like having sex with yourself. Having sex with yourself was really weird. Autoeroticism.
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But love was always something heavy for me. Something I had to carry.
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I looked out the window at the black clouds ahead of us. I opened the back window and smelled the rain. You could smell the rain in the desert even before a drop fell. I closed my eyes. I held my hand out and felt the first drop. It was like a kiss. The sky was kissing me. It was a nice thought. It was something Dante would have thought. I felt another drop and then another. A kiss. A kiss. And then another kiss.
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I took out my journal. I'd been avoiding writing in it. I think I was afraid all my anger would spill out on the pages. And I just didn't want to look at all that rage. It was a different kind of pain. A pain I couldn't stand. I tried not to think. I just started writing.
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Dogs were lucky—they didn’t need to live forever. They weren’t as greedy as people.
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And the hurt was so deep that it was way beyond tears and so their faces were dry.
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I just drove. I could have driven forever. I don’t know how I managed to find my spot in the desert, but I found it. It was as if I had a compass hidden somewhere inside me. One of the secrets of the universe was that our instincts were sometimes stronger than our minds.