“Mi abuelita says people’s souls are like gardens”

“You’re exactly like Tam Lin,” said Maria. “He says El Patron is like a force of nature – a tornado or volcano or something. He says you can’t help being awestruck even when you might get killed. I think it’s all rubbish.”

At the beginning of the novel, the readers know Matt’s purpose for living, but Matt doesn’t.

He grew large and green until he shadowed over the whole forest, but most of his branches are twisted.

No matter how treacherous El Patron had been, Matt still loved the old man.

Matt believes that El Patron loves him very much because he bought him an expensive birthday present.

It groaned along like an arthritic dinosaur and dumped the contents of the tanks into its cavernous belly.

Matt saw nothing wrong with being born in a stable; Jesus had found it perfectly acceptable.

Celia hugged Matt and said “No, darling. You’re safe from that. You’re safe for as long as you live.” She was crying, although Matt couldn’t understand why.

He felt a whisper of fear.

On the inner wall, under a knot of webs that would have made Dracula happy, Matt found another light switch.

At El Viejo’s funeral, the priest said. “This does not belong here!” the priest thundered. “This unbaptized limb of Satan has no right to make a mockery of this rite! Would you bring a dog to church?” The people in line had halted. Their eyes glittered with malice.

Matt noticed that the Keepers were only mildly scarred but not covered with the same active little pus volcanoes that dotted the boys’ faces.

Matt’s stomach was in knots.

“Matt, I thought you were a wuss,” said Chacho, “but you have more nerve than a herd of bulls.”

The breeze moaned like a lost spirit in the bones and turned surprisingly cold.

Ton-Ton maneuvered the shrimp harvester as delicately as a surgeon performing an operation.

(at the plankton factory) “Welcome to Hell’s baby brother.”

It seemed to snake between the inner and outer walls of the house.