the Indians, were like the weeds. That roses you had to water and give fertilizer or they'd die. But weeds, indigenous plants, you gave them nada-nothing; hell, you even poisoned them and put concrete over them, and those weeds would still break the concrete, reaching for the sunlight of God. That's the power of our people, my father would tell me, we're the weeds, LAS YERBAS DE TODO EL MUNDO!
Burro Genius: A Memoir (2004)