Federico Garcia Lorca Quotes
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The day that hunger is eradicated from the earth there will be the greatest spiritual explosion the world has ever known. Humanity cannot imagine the joy that will burst into the world.
Understand one single day fully, so you can love every night.
As I have not worried to be born, I do not worry to die.
I've often lost myself, in order to find the burn that keeps everything awake
Every step we take on earth brings us to a new world.
Love is the kiss in the quiet nest while the leaves are trembling, mirrored in the water.
The day hunger disappears, the world will see the greatest spiritual explosion humanity has ever seen.
The one thing life has taught me is that most people spend their lives bottled up inside their houses doing the things they hate.
Besides black art, there is only automation and mechanization.
I will always be on the side of those who have nothing and who are not even allowed to enjoy the nothing they have in peace.
Death, vicious death, Leave a green branch for love.
At the heart of all great art is an essential melancholy.
The only things that the United States has given to the world are skyscrapers, jazz, and cocktails. That is all. And in Cuba, in our America, they make much better cocktails.
In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.
There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers' battle with the heavens that cover them.
I was lucky enough to see with my own eyes the recent stock-market crash, where they lost several million dollars, a rabble of dead money that went sliding off into the sea.
With their souls of patent leather, they come down the road. Hunched and nocturnal, where they breathe they impose, silence of dark rubber, and fear of fine sand.
We're all curious about what might hurt us.
Only mystery allows us to live, only mystery.
In our eyes the roads are endless. Two are crossroads of the shadow.
Moon like a large stainedglass window that breaks on the ocean.
The two elements the traveler first captures in the big city are extra human architecture and furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish.
Damned, damned be the rich! May not even their fingernails be left!... I'm sure that they are going to Hell head-first.
My poetry is a game. My life is a game. But I am not a game.
I put my head out of my window and see how much the wind’s knife wants to slice it off. On this unseen guillotine, I’ve placed the eyeless head of all my desires.
The snow is falling on the deserted field of my life, and my hopes, which roam far, are afraid of becoming frozen or lost.
Today in my heart a vague trembling of stars and all roses are as white as my pain.
A poet must be a professor of the five senses and must open doors among them.
What's the furthest corner? Because that's where I want to be, alone with the only thing that I love.
Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain.
Seville is a tower full of fine archers.... Under the arch of the sky, across the clear plain, she shoots the constant arrow of her river.
New York is something awful, something monstrous. I like to walk the streets, lost, but I recognize that New York is the world's greatest lie. New York is Senegal with machines.
My God, I have come with the seeds of questions. I planted them, and they never flowered.
...I am the immense shadow of my tears
Not for a moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman, have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies.
My head is full of fire and grief and my tongue runs wild, pierced with shards of glass.
If blue is dream what then innocence? What awaits the heart if Love bears no arrows?
The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand.
Ever since I got married I've been thinking night and day about whose fault it was, and every time I think about it, out comes a new fault to eat up the old one; but always there's a fault left.
I want to be a poet, from head to toe, living and dying by poetry.
Old women can see through walls.
The moon carries the masks of meningitis into bedrooms, fills the wombs of pregnant women with cold water and, as soon as I'm not careful, throws handfuls of grass on my shoulders.
Adam & Eve. The serpent cracked the mirror in a thousand pieces, & the apple was his rock.
Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.
The mirror is the mother dew, the book of desiccated twilights, echo become flesh.
Little black horse. Where are you taking your dead rider?
Those who are afraid of death will carry it on their shoulders.
Theatre is poetry that rises from the book and becomes human enough to talk and shout, weep and despair
What you wouldn't have suspected lives & trembles in the air. Those treasures of the day you keep just out of reach. These come & go in truckloads but no one stops to see them.
Men like to pleasure us, girl. They like to undo our plaits and give us water to drink from their own mouths. That's what makes the world go round.