We had good hands, but it had the joker.
After five years I left, with a bald head at twenty-nine, and a little book of noble thoughts--Tips for the Tired, or Things you can say To-day on what you can do to-morrow.

I lost my hair worrying, but I learned to be patient.

The Dagos wanted to live in their own way, and they did.
It's one thing to be a missionary and say the little word in season; it's another to run your soft red head against a hard stone wall.

I went to Mexico a conquistador, I left it a child of time, who had learned to smile; and I left some millions behind me, too.

I said to an old Padre down there that I knew--we used to meet in the Cafe Manrique and drink chocolate--I said to him, 'Padre, the Lord's Prayer is a mistake down here.' 'Si, senor,' he said, and smiled his far-away smile at me.