Quotes About Roots

Foreigners, here it is, this is my homeland, here I was born and here live my dreams.

La poesía acompañó a los agonizantes y restañó los dolores, condujo a las victorias, acompañó a los solitarios, fue quemante como el fuego, ligera y fresca como la nieve, tuvo manos, dedos y puños, tuvo brotes como la primavera: echó raíces en el corazón del hombre.

Violence send deep roots into the heart, it has no seasons, it is always ripe, evergreen.

It [my sister's voice] is clear and light, a voice without seasons, like bells over a green city or snowfall on the roots of orchids.

You have to love what you can always come back to, what's home waiting for you.

he felt the snow, downward groping of tree roots.

We humans are in such a strange position -we are still animals whose behavior reflects that of our ancestors, yet we are unique- unlike any other animal on earth. Our distinctiveness separates us and makes it easy to forget where we came from. Perhaps dogs help us remember the depth of our roots, reminding us -the animals at the other end of the leash- that we may be special, but we are not alone. No wonder we call them our best friends.

All the different Soninke clans—the Sisse, Kante, Sylla, and others—trace their ancestry to Dinga's sons and daughters.

At dawn, after my death hours before, The sunlight will spread at seven o'clock as usual On these trees which I know. Greenness will burst, dark green shadows yield To the cruel-benign, indifferent sun. Indifferent will stand the trees in my own garden, Unweeping for me on the morning of my death. Same as ever, roots athirst, The trees will rest in breezeless dawn, Blind and uncaring, The trees that I knew, That I tended.

East, west, home's best.' The words rang in his mind. There wasn't any place like the one where the world had come alive to you, where you knew every stick and stone, every man, woman and child, where you could look around you and know that the men of your blood had had their

What, after all, is more real to us than the geography of our childhoods?

Everybody is begotten and points backwards, deeper down in the depths of beginnings, the bottoms and abysses of the well of the past.

This is the trouble with origin hunting. There are so many origins.

descended from

Yet, while tobacco and the newly dominant Southern crop, cotton, put Southern roots ever deeper into the soil, the fisheries drew New England out toward the world.

I guess, like most foreigners, when you're away, you see your own culture being even more strange. But where I come from and my roots mean a lot. I miss my family and my friends. Something I've realized as I've been traveling is that it's more about the actual people than the actual place.

If you go anywhere, even paradise, you will miss your home.

To get exponential returns, forget learning the latest thing. Instead, focus on what lasts.

A mother is always the beginning. She is how things begin.

I am the son of poor peasants who came at a very young age to live in Algeria. I only recently saw the place where they were born, near the city of Marrakech.

I have been a stranger here in my own land: All my life

I recently attended a meeting at which an agricultural economist argued that there is no essential difference between owning and renting a farm. A farmer stood up in the audience and replied: "Professor, I don't think our ancestors came to America in order to rent a farm.

To feel at home in a place, you have to have some prospect of staying there.

Because I have never separated myself from my home neighborhood, I cannot identify myself to myself apart from it. I am fairly literally flesh of its flesh. It is present in me, and to me, wherever I go. This