80 famous phrases by Federico García Lorca

Federico García Lorca (1898 - 1936) was an important poet, writer and Spanish playwright. Since childhood he showed his interest in theater and literature, to which he would dedicate himself all his life.

He studied advocacy, but never exercised. He is considered a multiplayed man who loved writing, music and painting. He won international acclamation as a figurative member of the 'Generation of 27', a group that mainly embodied poets.

His poems reflect his thoughts about life and have become popular citations over time. His writing skills helped him compose plays at an early age. Famous for his plays and writings, much is not known about his love for painting, But he left behind more than 300 drawings made secret, which came to light recently.

He lived in New York (USA) and Havana (Cuba). He also traveled to Argentina and Uruguay. Later he returned to Spain at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939). Upon arrival he was arrested and shot accused among other things of "being a spy of the Russians, being in contact with them by radio, having been secretary of Fernando de los Ríos and being homosexual".

His most outstanding works are: "Book of poems" (1921), "Mariana Pineda" (1927), "Romancero Gitano" (1928), "Poet in New York" (1930), "Weddings of Blood" (1933), "Yerma" (1934) and "The house of Bernarda Alba" (1936).

Faferes from Federico García Lorca

The most terrible of all feelings is the feeling of having dead hope.

As I have not worried about being born, I do not worry about dying.

I took my head out the window and I saw how much the wind knife wants to cut it. In this invisible guillotine, I have put my head without eyes of all my wishes.

What is the farthest corner? Because it is where I want to be, just with the only thing I love.

Those who fear death will carry her on her shoulders.

Being naked is to remember the earth.

... I am the immense shadow of my tears

Luck comes to those who least await her.

The day we stop resisting our instincts, we will have learned how to live.

Loneliness is the great carver of the spirit.

My poetry is a game. My life is a game. But I'm not a game.

What should I say about poetry? What should I say about those clouds or on heaven? Look; Look at these; Look! And nothing more. Don't you understand any poetry? Let critics and teachers. Because neither you, nor me, nor any poet we know what poetry is.

Green I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship on the sea and the horse on the mountain.

Life is laughter in the middle of a rosary of death.

If I told you the whole story, it would never end ... what happened to me has happened to a thousand women.

New York is something horrible, something monstrous. I like to walk the streets, lost, but I recognize that New York is the biggest lie in the world. New York is Senegal with machines.

Today in my heart there is a vague tremor of stars and all roses are as white as my pain.

I was lucky to see with my own eyes the recent fall of the stock market, in which they lost several million dollars, a chusma of dead money that slid towards the sea.

The Moon, like a large window window that breaks in the ocean.

Because you think the time heals and that the walls cover, and it is not true, it is not true ..

The two elements that the traveler captures for the first time in the big city are human architecture and the furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish.

Death put his eggs on the wound

My tongue is perforated with glass.

Discarding sadness and melancholy. Life is kind, it has a few days and only now we have to enjoy it.

The old women can see through the walls.

At five in the afternoon. They were exactly five in the afternoon. A child brought the white sheet at five in the afternoon. A fragile prepared from Lima prepared at five in the afternoon. The rest was death, and only death.

In addition to black art, there is only automation and mechanization.

I will always be on the side of those who have nothing and who cannot even enjoy anything they have in peace.

The poetry does not want followers, it wants lovers.

To whom you tell the secret you give your freedom.

Understand a single day completely, so you can love every night.

Every step we take on earth takes us to a new world.

Fire is fed by fire. The same little call destroys two wheat stems at the same time.

The important thing in life is to let the years take us.

But I'm not me. Not even my house is my house anymore. Because now I'm not me, nor is my house more my house.

Look right and left of time, and your heart learns to be calm.

Even money, which shines a lot, spits sometimes.

In our eyes, the paths are infinite. Two are crossroads of the shadow.

There are things locked inside the walls that, if they suddenly go out to the street and shout, they would fill the world.

Nothing turbhes past centuries. We cannot start a sigh of the old.

Love is the kiss in the quiet nest while the leaves tremble, reflected in the water.

What work is it difficult for us to transfer the thresholds of all doors!

I have often lost myself to find the burn that keeps everything awake.

I want to cry, because I feel like.

We go to the dark corner, where I always love you, that people do not care, nor the poison they throw us.

The snow is falling in the desert field of my life, and my hopes, which wander away, are afraid of freezing or getting lost.

You have always been ready. You have seen the bad from the people to one hundred leagues ... but the children are the children. Now you are blind.

Death, cruel death, leaves a green branch for love.

I have reached the line where nostalgia ceases and the cry of crying is transformed alabaster.

I know there is no straight path. There is no straight path in this world. Only a giant labyrinth of crosses and intersections.

In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.

The singing trees trunk and dry. And the Serenas Mountains become plains. But the water song is an eternal thing.

The famous man has the bitterness of carrying a cold breast and transferred by deaf flashlights that direct others.

Adam and Eve. The snake broke the mirror in a thousand pieces, and the apple was its rock.

But hurry, intertwine like one, with a broken mouth, our soul bitten by love, so that time discovers us destroyed without danger.

Only the mystery allows us to live, only the mystery.

The theater has to be imposed on the public, and not the public in the theater ... The word "art" must be written everywhere, in the auditorium and in the dressing rooms, before the word "business" is written there.

Burn with desire and keep silent about it is the greatest punishment that we can apply.

The one who wants to scratch the moon, will scratch the heart.

As well as the light and ungrateful vegetation of the saltpeter floats on the old walls of the houses as soon as the owner is neglected, the literary vocation sprouts in you.

Translation destroys the spirit of the language.

In the garden I will die. In the rose bush will kill me.

The only thing that life has taught me is that most people spend their bottled lives inside their homes doing the things they hate.

Having a child is not having a bouquet of roses.

A poet must be a professor of the five senses and must open doors between them.

My God, I have come with the seeds of the questions. I planted them and never flourished.

There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the battle of skyscrapers with the heavens that cover them.

I have often lost in the sea, with my ears full of newly cut flowers, the tongue full of love and agony.

The poem, the song, the image, are only water extracted from the people's well, and should be returned in a glass of beauty so that they can drink, and understand themselves.

The woman was not born to understand her, but to love her.

In the heart of all great art there is an essential melancholy.

Oh how unreasonable! I do not want with you bed or dinner, and there is no minute of the day that being with you does not want, because you drag me and I go, and you tell me to come back and I follow you through the air like a tan of grass.

The mirror is the mother's dew, the book of dissected twilights, the echo turned into flesh.

Death, lonely death, under dried leaves.

When I go on your side I feel a big takeoff and just like a lump in my throat.

I am not a man, nor a poet, nor a sheet, but an injured pulse that presses the beyond.

The day that hunger is eradicated from the earth, there will be the greatest spiritual explosion that the world has known. Humanity cannot imagine the joy that will break into the world.

Waiting, the knot gets rid and the ripe fruit.

The artist, and particularly the poet, is always an anarchist in the best sense of the word. You should only pay attention to the call that arises within it from three strong voices: the voice of death, with all its feeling, the voice of love and the voice of art.

I will always be happy if they leave me alone in that delicious and unknown corner so remote, apart from struggles, rot and nonsense; The last corner of sugar and roasted bread, where the sirens catch the branches of the willows and the heart opens with the sharpness of a flute.