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Rizal was eleven at the time; his elder and only brother, a protegé of one of the executed priests, feared he would be implicated in the alleged conspiracy and prudently went home to the provinces.

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Dedication
To My Country
In the catalog of human ills there is to be found a cancer so malignant that the least touch inflames it and causes agonizing pains; afflicted with such a cancer, a social cancer, has your dear image appeared to me, when, for my own heart’s ease or to compare you with others, I have sought, in the centers of modern civilization, to call you to mind.

Now, desirous of your welfare, which is also ours, and seeking the best cure for your ills, I shall do with you what was done in ages past with the sick, who were exposed on the steps of the temple so that the worshippers, having invoked the god, should each propose a remedy.

To this end, I shall endeavor to show your condition, faithfully and ruthlessly. I shall lift a corner of the veil which shrouds the disease sacrificing to the truth everything even self-love—for, as your son, your defects and weaknesses are also mine.

The Author,

Europe, 1886

ade attended by two million people on a 26-kilometer route, from Sto Domingo Church to the Manila Memorial Park (Sumpay 29).

We followed t

Goro took one look at his inquiring face from under her pillow, then waved him away. She did not want him to see her crying; she could tell her eyes were already swollen.

Someone else was fumbling at the doorknob. Keys. Of course, this house was not really her house. This room was not really her room. They had keys. She was a prisoner. She listened for the inevitable.
There was o

course, this house was not really her house. This room was not really her room. They had keys. She was a prisoner.

Kuya Alan to her left, and her mother to her right, burst out laughing. Goro bristled. As if she were not even there. Her mother elbowed her in a joking manner, but there was something forced about her smile. Goro could not even bring herself to smile back.
And then, all too soon, they were on the pavement just outside the International Airport, bidding her mother goodbye. Mama kissed everyone and kept Goro waiting, while all around them other families, couples, friends, lingered, laughed, cried, and said their farewells. At last Mama was kissing and hugging Goro, and telling her to obey Tita Leanna in all things. Goro nodded, then, in the last minute, hugged her mother back. “I’ll write,” her mother promised, and then she was gone.

And people we are surrounded with right now, including you and me, have been together before

what I say is that it is not true that we don’t remember our past lives, because the soul never forgets. They just do not surface to our level of consciousness. Under certain circumstances, we can recall everything that has happened to us in our past life