In youth the human body drew me and was the object of my secret and natural dreams. But body after body has taken away from me that sensual phosphorescence which my youth delighted in. Within me is no disturbing interplay now, but only the steady currents of adaptation and of sympathy.

(Haniel Long (1888-1956), U.S. author, poet, journalist. Interlinear to Cabeza de Vaca, p. 42 (1936, repr. 1987).)

For support, I fall back on my heart. Has a man any fault a woman cannot weave with and try to change into something better, if the god her man prays to is a mother holding a baby?

(Haniel Long (1888-1956), U.S. author, poet, journalist. Malinche, p. 73 (1939, repr. 1987).)

Our deeds disguise us. People need endless time to try on their deeds, until each knows the proper deeds for him to do. But every day, every hour, rushes by. There is no time.

(Haniel Long (1888-1956), U.S. author, poet, journalist. Malinche, pp. 72-73 (1939, repr. 1987).)

And who is any of us, that without starvation he can go through the kingdoms of starvation?

(Haniel Long (1888-1956), U.S. author, poet, journalist. Interlinear to Cabeza de Vaca, p. 50 (1936, repr. 1987).)

The moment one accosts a stranger or is accosted by him is above all in this life the moment of drama.... Whoever we meet watches us intently at the quick, strange moment of meeting, to see whether we are disposed to be friendly.

(Haniel Long (1888-1956), U.S. author, poet, journalist. Interlinear to Cabeza de Vaca, p. 41 (1936, repr. 1987).)