Stories exist to entertain and inspire us. They’re merely veils of hope for when we see the ugliness of the world.

What could you possibly hope to find in a cemetary?" The women said. "The dead tell no secrets and the living seldom come to visit them.

Don’t fret. We all experience it. We must. For despite our humanity love is the only way we can be like gods. It is in love that we glimpse heaven during our lifetime and have proof that there’s something worth looking forward to in the end.

I do not care about power and wealth, father. I want to marry for love.”“You want to marry for love?” The elder Valentino scoffed. “Que mierda. Marrying for love is like adding extra picante to your meal. It may seem like a good idea at the time, but your stomach will curse you for it with ulcers in the end.

Love is the only memory one never loses, Isaac.” His father had said. “Because even if one loses his mind the memory always remains in the heart.

Rolando pursed his lips and sighed. “Just be careful.” “Why, because her father carries a gun?” Isaac said. “Aren’t you the one who always said guns don’t shoot people?”“No, it was you who said that.” Rolando corrected his son. “I’ve said fathers with guns and beautiful daughters shoot people. Boys in particular.” “You worry too much, dad.” “One day, when you are a father, you will understand.

It is known all over the world that there are no secrets in the ghetto and as long as you keep those secrets, you may keep your life.