Suenos. Dulces Suenos.
He must be painting upstairs.
I can feel it.
I remember when his father was just a baby and I called her Mama for the first time and she became Mama for all of us; Mama de la casa and his father would wake up in the middle of the night and scream in his crib and nothing would make him stop, nada, and Mama would get so exhausted she would turn her back to me and cry in her pillow.
I would smooth her hair-it was black, Basilio, as black as an olive-and I would turn on the radio (electricity, Basilio, in the middle of the night), to maybe calm the baby and listen to something besides the screaming.
Mama liked the radio, Basilio, and we listened while your father cried-cantante negra, cantante de almas azules-and it made us feel a little better, helped us make it through.
I had to get up early to catch the streetcar to the shipyard, but when the crying finally stopped sometimes the sun would be ready to pop and Mama's breathing would slow down and her shoulders would move like gentle waves, sleeping but still listening, like I can hear her now on this good bed, and Basilio-Mira, hombre, I will not tell you this again-if I moved very close and kissed her shoulders, she would turn to face me and we would have to be quiet Basilio, under the music, very, very quiet....
So this I want to know, Basilio.
This, if you want to live on Macon Street for another minute.
Can you paint an apple baked soft in the oven, an apple filled with cinnamon and raisins?
Can you paint such a woman?
Are you good enough yet with those brushes so that she will step out of your pictures to turn on the radio in the middle of the night?
Will she visit an old man on his death bed?
If you cannot do that, Basilio, there is no need for you to live here anymore.

Rafael Alvarez

Tag: sentiment



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Some people will tell you there is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tag: poetry tea sentiment



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What we need now are heroes and heroines, about a million of them, one brave deed is worth a thousand books. Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul.

Edward Abbey

Tag: books soul heroes action sentiment ruin deeds



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Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul.

Edward Abbey

Tag: soul action sentiment ruin deeds



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Miles of junk to throw out -- how do you decide what to keep when everything is sentiment.

Staceyann Chin

Tag: sentiment



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- A sentyment staje się uciążliwy. W końcu jest coś nazbyt fizycznego w próbie zachowania cząstki dzieciństwa na swoim mostku.
- Nie pan pierwszy sprowadza wiarę do zmysłu dotyku.

Vladimir Nabokov

Tag: faith sentiment



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All sentiment is right; because sentiment has a reference to nothing beyond itself, and is always real, wherever a man is conscious of it. But all determinations of the understanding are not right; because they have a reference to something beyond themselves, to wit, real matter of fact; and are not always conformable to that standard.

David Hume

Tag: sentiment



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Eko brushed a tear from her eye, and Immo jeered at her, but father held up a hand. "Never mock a tender heart," he said.

Orson Scott Card

Tag: sentiment aphorism mockery



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I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue.

Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each letter.

Your name, which I played with so carelessly, so easily, has somehow become sacred to my lips.

A name I won’t throw around lightheartedly or repeat without deep thought.

And if ever I speak of you, I use the English language to describe who you were to me. You are nameless, because those letters grouped together in that familiar form….. carries too much meaning for my capricious heart.

Coco J. Ginger

Tag: love passion writers names sentiment memories thoughts remembering love-story your-name



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I was fourteen then. He was eighteen. Everything is biographical, Lucien Freud says. What we make, why it is made, how we draw a dog, who it is we are drawn to, why we cannot forget. Everything is collage, even genetics. There is the hidden presence of others in us, even those we have known briefly. We contain them for the rest of our lives, at every border that we cross.

Michael Ondaatje

Tag: life philosophy sentiment



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