"If someone gave Manuel a common stone, he would hold it in his hand and look at it eagerly. In a few seconds, it would begin to shine and he would see that it was made of silver, then of gold, then of the most precious things imaginable, until the glitter died
Roberto would hold the same stone and would murmur, "Mmmmm, , , What is this good for?" But he wouldn't know the answer.
Marta would hold it in her hand for just a moment, and without a thought, would throw it away.
I, Consuelo, would look at it wonderingly. "What might this be? Is it, could it be, what I have been looking for?"
But my father would take the stone and set it on the ground. He would look for another and put it on top of the first one, then another and another, until no matter how long it took, he had finally turned it into a house." from Children of Sanchez, by Oscar Lewis