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Quote by Luisa Capetillo

“There are many women who think that being a mother means contradicting a child, and later they beat them, and order them about for the sake of giving orders, to see herself obeyed, ordering the child not to run, not to jump, not to yell, in sum, a whole bunch of ignorant things, the truth is, to prohibit a child from doing all this is to prohibit them from being healthy. They act like this with girls precisely because they are girls, as if a girl's organism did not have to develop, so that they can grow up beautiful and strong, and not scrawny and pale, nor become mothers full of pains and ailments. They think that being a mother authorizes them to mistreat and order the children at whim, and oblige them to do things against their will, that is an error.”

Quote by Luisa Capetillo

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Luisa Capetillo

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“Nappo lo prese in mano perplesso. Ci volle un po’ perché riuscisse ad aprirlo. Era per via delle dita. Aveva dita corte e sbozzate come dei torsoli sputati da una trebbia difettosa. Quelle dita avevano deciso il suo destino. Quando, da bambino, aveva espresso il desiderio di suonare la fisarmonica, sua madre l’aveva guardato con dolcezza. “Con quali dita?” gli aveva chiesto. “Perché non provi con un altro strumento? Cosa ne pensi della roncola?”

“From back of the houses, we hear some mother calling her son, the voice edgy on the last syllable, getting frantic. Probably Miz Baker, whose six-foot twelve-year-old got a way of scooting up and down that resembles too much the actions of a runaway bandit to the pigs around here. Mainly, he got the outlaw hue, and running too? Shit, Miz Baker stay frantic.”

“Sometimes Evelyn got stuck on a word, using it for everything until it started to mean nothing and everything. This week, it was “world.” Everything was the world. The world was everything. It made sense from that vantage point, but the previous week, it had been “wax,” which had the bonus quality of being both a noun and a verb. I waxed her breakfast of wax and then had the wax to give her wax when she really wanted the world. World? Whirled. Whorled. Were Eld. Was she working her way through the dictionary? It was like the language of flowers, a song heard in a different lifetime.”