Quotes About Heritage

Plain of Jars is a collection of thousands of massive limestone cups whose origins remain unknown, scattered over a wide area of Laos's Xiangkhoang Province.

In Oaxaca, ancient indigenous traditions and ingredients define not only the mescal, but also the food.

It's always good to remember where you come from and celebrate it. To remember where you come from is part of where you're going

He had a pride in being a poor man of a high family; he had a pride in repudiating the very family of which he was proud; and he had a special pride in keeping his pride silently to himself.

Blood, indeed! If my father had been a baker, I should know by this time where to look for my livelihood. As it is, I am told of nothing but my blood. Will my blood ever get me half a crown?

CHAPTER IX THE OLD KENNELS

Neither money nor position can atone to me for low birth.

Genealogy was her favorite insanity.

For obvious reasons the Catholic aristocracy was heavily intermarried.

Mom and I argued about every other dish on the menu. But on this we agreed: without kulebiaka, there could be no proper Silver Age Moscow repast.

For as long as I can remember, I have felt the shtetl nipping at my heels.

But mostly I learned to cook from my mother. There weren't any blintz-style lessons. I absorbed her preferences and prejudices over the years the way that I absorbed her gestures and her speech pattern, until ultimately my cooking tastes slightly but unmistakably like hers.

for nobility is excellence of race.

Queers doing cowboy dancing. Who would've thunk it? Kids who grew up in Galveston and Tucson and Modesto, performing the folk dances of their homeland finally, finally with the partner of their choice.

Behind every man now alive stand thirty ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living.

Now times had changed, and the inherited wisdom of the past had become folly.

Much had been lost during the centuries, for men seldom bother to preserve the commonplace articles of everyday life.

I am an Irishman, sir. Irish Irish? Yes, sir.

It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believes that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes.

the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes.

Where the real sex feeling begins, timidity and distrust are its companions, heritage from old wicked days when love and violence went often hand in hand. The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing figure—these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. Even in my short life I had learned as much as that—or had inherited it in that race memory which we call instinct.

I have finally learned that I am as much a part of this country as those villagers. Whether they like it or not, my umbilical cord is buried in the earth of Vietnam just like theirs.

Everyone tells stories around here. Every place, every person has a ring of stories around them, a halo almost. People have told me tales ever since I was a tiny girl squatting in the front dooryard, in mud-caked overalls, digging for doodlebugs. They have talked to me, and talked to me. some I've forgotten, but most I remember. And so my memory goes back before my birth

It's like this, when you live in a place you've always lived in, where your family has always lived. You get to see things not only in space but in time too.