I'd lock myself up in my room with my guitar. I wouldn't cry. I was afraid if I let go just a little bit, it would all go. I would sing for hours by myself . . . . It was my way of crying.

I was 16 months old when I left Cuba, so I really don't remember anything [about Cuba].

[While her father was a political prisoner in Cuba] I was always singing and dancing and reciting poems -- that was how I used to do my crying over my father. …

When I first came to Miami [in 1959], you'd see signs like 'No Children, No Pets, No Cubans.' We were a major threat. We lived in a very small apartment behind…

'The only way I was able to bring myself out of all that negativity was to lock myself in my room and sing.'

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For this brave old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and th…

Out of my own great woe I make my little songs.