"He listened to the hooting of many metal horns, the squealing of brakes, the calls of vendors selling red-purple bananas and jungle oranges in their stalls."
"Mazatlan becomes more vivid in retrospect: I recall cool patios glimpsed from sun-baked streets which sheltered coconut palms, strange lilies, banana trees."
"The old woman stares out an open window, shards of sunlight pierce her face cutting shadows on skin. She is washing her hands after the dishes, dipping them into a sea of hues and shapes, a sea of syllables without sound, in a stone house in Merida, her Merida of dense Mexico."
"Round the centre of the covered market, where there is a basin of water, are the flowers: red, white, pink roses in heaps, many-coloured little carnations, poppies, bits of larkspur, lemon and orange marigolds, buds of madonna lilies, pansies, a few forget-me-nots. They don't bring the tropical flowers. Only the lilies come wild from the hills, and the mauve red orchids."
"Mexico is the front door to South America - and the back door to the states..."
"...the air is so pretty, the women sang so softly and sleepily, the music sounded so soothingly as we glided along the water, that I felt in a pleasant half-dreamy state of perfect contentment, and was sorry when arriving at the landing place, we had to return to a carriage and civilized life, with nothing but the garlands of flowers to remind us of the Chinampas."