Mothers, on the other hand, are trees with firm roots.
If I have a perfect lover waiting for me in California, why would I want an imperfect husband?” I argued. “Lovers don’t last; a husband is a captive prey,” she replied.
Non parlarmi di domani e di ieri, vivo solamente per questo istante dell’oggi in cui torno a inabissarmi nella notte infinita dei tuoi occhi scuri.
In the Chinese language, do you know what the characters for ‘crisis’ are? ‘Danger’ plus ’opportunity.
Compared to Europe, Chile was a happily backward and distant paradise. It was true that at this moment it had a center-left government: the president was from the Radical Party and a freemason. He was detested by the Right, and his name was never mentioned by the “best families,” but he wasn’t going to last long. The Left, with its coarse realism and vulgarity, had no future; the owners of Chile would make sure of that.
What’s at the root of this explosive mixture of desire for and hatred of women? Why are aggression and harassment not civil rights or human rights concerns? Why are women silenced? Why isn’t there a declared war against such violence, like the war against drugs, terrorism, or crime? The answer is obvious: Violence and fear are instruments of control.
We have to consider violence against women for what it really is: the greatest crisis that faces humanity.
Our land only rewards those who work hard in it.
I’m so old that I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror.
Someone like him who thought more about himself than he did his community, had no place in the tribe. Individualism was thought to be a form of madness, like being possessed by a demon.
A muchas hijas nos ha tocado vivir la vida que nuestras madres no pudieron vivir.
She embellished the facts because she was aware that life is how we tell it, so why would she jot down trivia?
Feminism, like the ocean, is fluid, powerful, deep, and encompasses the infinite complexity of life; it moves in waves, currents, tides, and sometimes in storms. Like the ocean, feminism never stays quiet.
Their longstanding friendship turned into a deeper complicity in which there was no room for secrets, suspicion, or offense; they started from the principle that they would never hurt each other and that if this happened, it would be unintentional. They protected each other, which made their present hardships and the ghosts of the past bearable.
She embellished the facts, because she was aware that life is.
In Chile we suffer from a particular form of hypocrisy. We act as if we’re scandalized by any little peccadillo someone else commits at the same time that we are stacking up barbarous sins in private.
Writers were mature men, solemn, remote, and usually dead.
No, literature was definitely not a reasonable career path in a country like Chile where intellectual scorn for women was absolute.
Since 1973, the year of the military coup that changed so many things, situating has become a little more complex because in the first three minutes of conversation you also have to guess whether the person you’re speaking to was for or against the dictatorship.
I must admit that I didn’t choose journalism, I was caught off guard; the profession simply sank its claws into me. It was love at first sight, a sudden passion that has determined a large part of my life.