توی زندان که بودم، فهمیدم دارم خودم را گول می زنم؛ چون تمام عمرم به حرف زدن گذشته. یک روز به خودم می گویم که بیرون می روم و از نو شروع می کنم. روز بعد هم می گویم که می خواهم یک کاری کنم تا پولدار شوم. ولی وقتی که آزاد می شوم و بیرون می آیم، می بینم که من همان کرب هستم و دنیا هم فرقی نکرده. می فهمی چه می گویم؟
Walter Dean Myersفکر می کنم به چیزی احتیاج دارم تا به آن افتخار کنم. دوست دارم به آیینه نگاه کنم و به چیزی که می بینم احترام بگذارم. این کار، احترام به خودم است.
Walter Dean Myersرویاهای زندان برای دوبار شروع کردن و خوشبخت شدن. می دانی، توی زندان تمام رویاها اما و اگری دارد؛ اگر این اتفاق بیفتد یا اگر بتوانی از نو شروع کنی...
Walter Dean MyersI took the thin magazine from the pouch in front of me and began to thumb through it. I felt self-conscious, as if I shouldn't be there. My mind began to wander, as I knew it would, back to the boonies. I was on patrol again. Monaco was on point. Peewee and Walowick followed him. Lobel and Brunner were next, then Johnson, the sixty cradled in his arm as if it were a child. We were walking the boonies, past rice paddies, toward yet another hill. I was in the rear, and for some reason I turned back. Behind me, trailing the platoon, were the others. Brew, Jenkins, Sergeant Dongan, Turner, and Lewis, the new guys, and Lieutenant Carroll.
I knew I was mixing my prayers, but it didn't matter. I just wanted God to care for them, to keep them whole. I knew they were thinking about me and Peewee.
Stichwörter: war death soldiers vietnam fallen-angels my-feels
Yeah, it’s hard, baby
It’s hard right down to the bone
I said Oh, it’s hard baby
It’s hard right down to the very bone
It’s hard when you’re a woman
And you find yourself all alone
I’ve been flapping and scrapping
And running from door to door
You know I’ve been flapping and scrapping, honey
Running from door to door
Stichwörter: women loneliness
She is the only rose that doesn’t smell of plastic
Walter Dean MyersStichwörter: originality
Each of us is born with a history already in place
Walter Dean MyersGo. Think. Turn black into white.
Night into day. I am tired of thinking.
I know where it will lead me and I don’t
Want to be there.
Go love. Do your thinking.
Let me think
Thinking is all I have
If wisdom is a pretense
Then let me pretend to be wise
I am too real not to know that real will kill me
I am too street not to know what the streets hold
for me
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