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It was said of him when receiving the award: “ Henry's unwavering dedication to this country's inner city economies is a testament to the difference one person can make .” In 2007, Cisneros was honored with the prestigious “ Housing Person of the Year ” Award from the National Housing Conference, where it was said: “ Without question Henry Cisneros has demonstrated a life-long dedication to providing housing to America's working families …” Together with Jack Kemp, he received the Walter F. Mondale and Edward W. Brooke Fair Housing Award in June 2009 from the Fair Housing Alliance.
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was and said
`` I'm a mess '', she said, and suddenly she was alarmed.
You see, he lied to us when he said he was leavin alone ''.
`` That was a terrible thing to do '', I said to Oso.
The War Department wrote Mr. Manuel a letter and said he was a hero.
`` But that was war '', I said.
What else he said was lost in the rattle of gunfire on all sides.
She said, and her tone had softened until it was almost friendly.
`` Oh, no '', he said, and he was without humor now.
Normally Hague wasted no words, but now he found himself unable to stop their flow although he knew Kodyke was aware of all he said.
When they reached their neighbor's house, Pamela said a few polite words to Grace and kissed Melissa lightly on the forehead, the impulse prompted by a stray thought -- of the type to which she was frequently subject these days -- that they might never see one another again.
An Ah coudn ansuh him an so Ah said ' Aw right, Ah gay-ess, an his fathuh didn uttuh one wohd an aftuh Huhmun was gone, the majuh laughed an tole me thet he an the bawh had been hevin an occasional drink t'gethuh f'ovuh a yeah, onleh an occasional one, but just the same it was behahn mah back, an Ah doan think thet's nahce at all, d'you ''??
She was still hugging the stained coat around her, so I said, `` Relax, let me take your things.
That was all she said.
This was the worst thing I could have said.
The girl took a couple of steps toward the man in shorts when Benson, in that barefoot courtliness Ramey could never decide was real, said, `` You don't want to go around there, Ma'am ''.
There was no doubt that Herr Schaffner meant every word of what he said.
But they never said anything, so he figured it was all right.
He said, lapsing into the profanity he often used when away from his parents and especially when he was with Charles.
While she was struggling to get her skirt down and get on her feet again, Jack ran over, offered her his hand and said, `` Gosh, I'm sorry, Miss Langford.
That should do it, he thought, because Miss Langford had said she was going to be strict about school work.
`` I only said I was hungry.
`` No, I don't think so '', said the big man, and it was the final clincher for Ernie.
`` I'd wind up full of bullet holes '', he said, and there was no question that he was talking about bullets fired by his coworkers.
was and him
The easiest thing would be to sell out to Al Budd and leave the country, but there was a stubborn streak in him that wouldn't allow it.
The best antidote for the bitterness and disappointment that poisoned him was hard work.
He was silent a moment, thinking he could use a man this time of year, and if the girl could cook, it would give him more time in the meadows, but he knew nothing about the couple.
They might kill him in his sleep, thinking there was money in the house.
There was more to this than Jones had told him.
He was thinking of Rittenhouse and how he had left him there, to rock to death on the porch of the Splendide.
The silence oppressed him, made him bend low over the horse's neck as if to hide from a wind that had begun to blow far away and was twisting slowly through the darkness in its slow search.
He knew who was riding after him -- the men he had known all his life, the men who had worked for him, sworn their loyalty to him.
The Gap looming before him -- the place where had confronted Jack English on that day so many years ago -- was his exit from all that had meaning to him.
The stockade was brilliantly lighted and the guerrillas sighted him.
At the same moment Wheeler Fiske fired the rifle Mike had given him and another guerrilla was hit.
Next to him was a young boy I was sure had sat near me at one of the trading sessions.
He was riding between two warriors, who held him erect when he started to slump.
Now under me I could see him for what he really was, a boy dressed up in streaks of paint.
She had picked up the quirt and was twirling it around her wrist and smiling at him.
It was meant to insult him, and didn't quite succeed.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and went down on one knee, taking her weight so that some of the wind was driven out of him.
She brought up her free hand to hit him, but this time he was quicker.
But it was not easy for him and he often slipped.
Once, pressing him, I learned that his job was only part-time, in the afternoons when nothing went on in the hall.
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