Federico Garcia Lorca Quotations

Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.

There's no doubt that I really have a feeling for the theater. These past few days it has occurred to me to do a comedy whose chief characters are photographic enlargements. Those people we see in doorways. Newlyweds, sergeants, dead girls, an anonymous crowd full of mustaches and wrinkles. It should be terrible. If I focus it well, it will possess pathos without consolation. In the midst of those people I will place an authentic fairy.

In each thing there is an insinuation of death. Stillness, silence, serenity are all apprenticeships.

My tongue is pierced with glass.

Even money, which shines so much, spits sometimes.

Everyone understands the pain that accompanies death, but genuine pain doesn't live in the spirit, nor in the air, nor in our lives, nor on these terraces of billowing smoke. The genuine pain that keeps everything awake is a tiny, infinite burn on the innocent eyes of other systems.

The bride, the white bride today a maiden, tomorrow a wife.

We're all like the little sailor. From the harbors we hear the strains of accordions and the murky soapy noises of the docks, from the mountains we receive the dish of silence that the shepherds eat, but we don't hear more than our own distances. And what distances without end and without doors and without mountains!

The world is a shoulder of dark meat (black flesh of an old mule). And the light is on the other side.

Death laid its eggs in the wound