Quotessence
Home / Authors / Luis Alberto Urrea
Luis Alberto Urrea

Luis Alberto Urrea Quotes

Poet

Filter quotes by topic

AllDeathDesertDyingImmigrationMexicoBorder CrossingFamilyMexicansWomenBorderGriefHelpingIllegal ImmigrationLanguageLifeLossPeaceStoriesUndocumented ImmigrantsUnited States

Famous Luis Alberto Urrea Quotes

“When you died, you died in small doses. You had trouble speaking. You forgot who was beside you. You were suddenly furious and in a panic of outrage. You wished you could be saintly. You wished you weren't so weak. You suddenly felt better and fooled yourself into believing that a miracle was about to happen. Well, wasn't that all a dirty rotten thing to pull on somebody.”

DeathDyingCancerIllnessOld Age
Book:The House of Broken Angels
Create image

“And afterward, I stopped at Red Cloud's grave to pay my respects to the old chief. Some Oglalas had left him tobacco ties, little sacred bundles in all the colors of the four directions. I asked him to take care of my woman out there, where she was new and maybe lost. I asked him to take her into his lodge and protect her until I could come for her. That's all I remember.”

DeathLossGriefProtectionAfterlifeIndigenousNative AmericansIndigenous PeoplesOglalaRed Cloud
Book:Six Kinds of Sky: A Collection of Short Fiction
Create image

“Men stumbled away toward illusions in the brutal light. Men thought they were home, walking into their front doors, hugging their wives, making love. Still they walked. Men were swimming. Men were killing Mendez. Men were on the beach, collecting shells and watching their children splash. Their women stood naked before them, soft bellies, hands on ribs, breasts. Men hid their faces from a furious God. And they walked. A voice was heard in the light-shatter, saying “He’s going to die. Lay him down here and let him die. Keep walking.” The desert, out of focus and suddenly terribly sharp, burst white and yellow in their eyes. It tilted. Elongated. It was at an impossible angle! It tipped up towards the sun, and if they didn’t crawl, they would slide right off it and fall forever. It made noise: there were engines beneath the desert. It made evil grinding noises, mechanical humming. No, it was insectile, the screech of hunger and derision. The devils were under the rocks, spitting insults. The black head laughed. I believe in God the father, creator of heaven and earth. No, it did not fucking laugh—- it was silent as a graveyard out there. Just the crunch and slide, crunch and slide, of endless hopeless footsteps. Hundreds of footsteps.”

DeathImmigrationDesertBorder Crossing
Book:The Devil's Highway: A True Story
Create image