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Quote by Lynne Ewing

“Jimena sensed their fear. That brought a smile to her face. Her reputation was still so big that even tough enimigas wouldn't face her down. She strutted past them, her heels snapping loudly on the sidewalk. She enjoyed the feel of their admiring eyes, their sideways glances and the wonder she saw on their faces. Jimena wasn't choloed out in khakis, a tight T, and long, boyfriend-borrowed Pendletons. She wore a slinky dress and ankle-breaking high-heels. The rain made the dress cling to her body, so they knew she wasn't strapping. No gun. Still, they were afraid to confront her. This time she stopped for the red light, pausing to let the chicas know she didn't fear them. It felt good to be the toughest chola en el condado de Los Angeles. She was still down for Ninth Street, her old gang, but at age fifteen, already a veterana. A leyenda, her homegirls told her with pride. Jimena had been a real badass before she understood her destiny. She glanced at the scars and tattoos on her hand. What would the klika-girls do if they knew her true identity?”

Quote by Lynne Ewing

Book:Night Shade
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Night Shade

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Lynne Ewing
Lynne Ewing

Lynne Ewing, born in 1938, is an accomplished author known for her works in both children's literature and adult fiction. Her writing is celebrated for its rich imagination and emotional depth. more

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“And how do you plan on appeasing the spirits of the dead if you do go the land of the dead?" Jimena looked at her strangely. Was she serious? "What do you mean?" "You're going to their house. What do you have to offer them so they will let you leave?" Jimena thought a long moment. What could the dead possibly want from her? And then she remembered her grandmother's oraciones for her grandfather. "My prayers." "Prayers?" Jimena could sense the woman's disappointment. "I remember a time when a blood sacrifice was made. People slaughtered the pride of their herds." "I don't have any cattle or sheep," Jimena offered. "I live in the city." The woman snorted. "No one really believes in the mythical world anymore. Once people poured libations for the dead." "Libations?" "Milk and honey, mellow wine, and water sprinkled with glistening barley. Prayers? Well, I guess that is a modern equivalent. I suppose prayers will have to do.”

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Book:Night Shade
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“He clasped the amulet around her neck. "It's only a symbol," she said in a drowsy kind of way. "Only a symbol of the power inside me." "Then feel that power," Veto urged. She glanced at him. It was too late. But as she continued to stare into Veto's fading eyes something happened. She realized instinctively that the real power had always been inside her. It was something no one could steal from her. She could feel the energy building, pulsing through her like a jaguar in the night. Her gift of premonition and the amulet were only symbols. She understood now that Maggie had wanted her to realize this for herself; she had never stopped being a Daughter of the Moon. If Maggie had simply told her that she had the ability to stand against evil without using violence, or her gift, then she never would have found the self-confidence and faith that she felt rising in her now.”

GoddessSymbolicInner PowerJimena Castillo
Book:Night Shade
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“I want you to tattoo me." "Tattoo? I don't know how." "You draw," Jimena explained. "That's all you need to know to do a jailhouse tattoo. I'll tell you the rest." An hour later the tattoo of a crescent moon and star was bleeding on Jimena's arm. "It looks good," Catty said with pride. "Yeah." Jimena stood in front of the mirror and admired Catty's work. Excitement ran through her when she looked at herself. She glanced at Catty and knew she was feeling the same. They stared at each other's reflections. "You look... like a goddess," Catty said, smiling. Jimena remembered she no longer had her gift. Could she even call herself a goddess now? With rising self-assurance, she knew it was her rightful title. The power was inside her.”

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Book:Night Shade
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“She breathed the spicy smells of frying onions and chilies from the taco stand on the corner and tried to figure out where she was. In the distance the familiar shining office buildings of the Los Angeles skyline stood tall in the smoggy brown air. Behind her, faded stuffed animals pressed against the barred glass of a liquor store, their black eyes peering over advertisements for cigarettes, cerveza, and lottery tickets. Next door a fanfare of lace and satin filled the window, waves of quinceañera dresses jamming the display. She didn't need to see more. She was on the wrong side of Wilshire Boulevard, east of Alvarado. Enemy territory.”

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Book:The Choice
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“Detesto seguir alguém assim como detesto conduzir. Obedecer? Não! E governar, nunca! Quem não se mete medo não consegue metê-lo a ninguém, E só aquele que o inspira pode comandar. Já detesto guiar-me a mim próprio! Gosto, como os animais das florestas e dos mares, De me perder durante um grande pedaço, Acocorar-me a sonhar num deserto encantador, E forçar-me a regressar de longe aos meus penates, Atrair-me a mim próprio... para mim.”

SolidãoGovernoLiderLiderançaComandoFalsidadeObediência
Book:The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs
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