Top 100 Quotes About Lorca
#1. You told me once
about how they used
to build whole city states
out of poems
how everything you see here
is made out of
the bones of dreams
how having a stiff
drink with lorca meant
you had to write
everything down right away
lately the words just
won't come
John Dorsey
#2. Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.
W.S. Merwin
#3. I walk with Federico Garcia Lorca around the Upper West Side in Manhattan because that was a neighborhood he lived in and I imagine walking around Paris with Cesar Vallejo, a great Peruvian poet who lived in Paris. And I kind of create the walk as a kind of drama of my apprenticeship.
Edward Hirsch
#4. Welcome young poet, in here you are free
to follow your star to where you should be.
That door of the library was the door into me
And Lorca and Shelley said "Come to the feast."
Whitechapel Library, Aldgate East.
Bernard Kops
#5. The trash bags are gone, the bar wiped clean. The lights have been hung; they line the stage and loop around the Snakehead, making the old axe glow. Stalled in the doorway, Lorca experiences a stomachache he can only call Christmas.
Marie-Helene Bertino
#6. I tried sex once with a woman and it was Gala. It was overated. I tried sex once with a man and that man was the famous juggler Frederico Garcia Lorca. It was very painful.
Salvador Dali
#7. What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!
and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?
Allen Ginsberg
#8. I tried sex once with a woman and that woman was Gala. It was overrated. I tried sex once with a man and that man was the famous juggler Federico Garcia Lorca [the Spanish Surrealist poet]. It was very painful.
Salvador Dali
#9. They pulled Ezra through the streets in a wooden cage. Blake was sure of God. Villon was a mugger. Lorca sucked cock. T. S. Eliot worked a teller's cage
Charles Bukowski
#10. The poem, the song, the picture, is only water drawn from the well of the people, and it should be given back to them in a cup of beauty so that they may drink - and in drinking understand themselves.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#11. Just as the light and weightless vegetation of saltpeter floats over the old walls of houses as soon as the owner gets careless, so the literary vocation springs up in you.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#12. After Passing By
The children watch
a distant point.
Lamps go out.
Some blind girls
question the moon
and spirals of grief
rise in the air.
The mountains survey
a distant point.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#13. Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of being without fruit. Why was I born among mirrors? Day goes round and round me. The night copies me in all its stars. I want to live without my reflection. And then let me dream that ants and thistledown are my leaves and my parrots.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#14. In the beginning of my photography I controlled everything: rearranging the room, lighting it, and telling people what to do and where to put their hands. By the last project, I was basically totally at the mercy of serendipity.
Philip-Lorca DiCorcia
#16. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#17. Words are what sticks to the real. We use them to push the real, to drag the real into the poem. They are what we hold on with, nothing else. They are as valuable in themselves as rope with nothing to be tied to.
Jack Spicer
#19. To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#20. The wounds were burning like suns at five in the afternoon, and the crowd broke the windows At five in the afternoon. Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon! It was five by all the clocks! It was five in the shade of the afternoon!
Federico Garcia Lorca
#21. The two elements the traveler first captures in the big city are extra human architecture and furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#22. You can't look at yourself
in the ocean.
Your looks fall apart
like tendrils of light.
Night on earth.
- The Great Sadness
Federico Garcia Lorca
#23. What's the furthest corner? Because that's where I want to be, alone with the only thing that I love.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#24. I want to sleep for half a second,
a second, a minute, a century,
but I want everyone to know that I'm still alive ...
Federico Garcia Lorca
#26. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#29. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#30. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#31. My head is full of fire
and grief and my tongue
runs wild, pierced
with shards of glass.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#32. The snow is falling on the deserted field of my life, and my hopes, which roam far, are afraid of becoming frozen or lost.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#33. Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#34. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#36. When the moon sails out
with a hundred faces all the same,
the coins made of silver
break out in sobs in the pocket.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#40. The dancer's trembling heart must bring everything into harmony, from the tips of her shoes to the flutter of her eyelashes, from the ruffles of her dress to the incessant play of her fingers.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#42. If I told you the whole story it would never end ... What's happened to me has happened to a thousand woman.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#44. Not for a moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman, have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#45. Hail, mute devil! You are the most intense animal. An eternal mystic of the fleshly inferno ...
Federico Garcia Lorca
#47. I'm satisfied. I am progressively making my life and my name in the surest and purest manner. If I catch on in the theater, as I think I will, all the doors will gladly open wide for me.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#48. The day hunger disappears, the world will see the greatest spiritual explosion humanity has ever seen.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#49. There's a reductiveness to photography, of course - in the framing of reality and the exclusion of chunks of it (the rest of the world, in fact). It's almost as if the act of photography bears some relationship to how we consciously manage the uncontrollable set of possibilities that exist in life.
Philip-Lorca DiCorcia
#50. Don't ask me any questions. I've seen how things that seek their way find their void instead.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#52. While the poet wrestles with the horses on his brain and the sculptor wounds his eyes on the hard spark of alabaster, the dancer battles the air around her, air that threatens at any moment to destroy her harmony or to open huge open empty spaces where her rhythm will be annihilated.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#54. Photography ... unites the obvious and the unconscious at the level of the limimal - the border between what we see and what we suspect.
Philip-Lorca DiCorcia
#55. The one thing life has taught me is that most people spend their lives bottled up inside their houses doing the things they hate.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#56. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#57. The more specific the interpretation suggested by a picture, the less happy I am with it.
Philip-Lorca DiCorcia
#58. In each thing there is an insinuation of death. Stillness, silence, serenity are all apprenticeships.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#60. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#61. [Photography is a] hair-raising joy ride in a medium that, despite being a mechanical trick, can break down the division between mind and matter like a superhero, or an artist.
Philip-Lorca DiCorcia
#62. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#63. But hurry! so united, entwined,
mouths broken by love and soul bitten,
time will find us destroyed
Federico Garcia Lorca
#64. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#65. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#66. The gitano is the most distinguished, profound and aristocratic element in my country, the one that most represents its Way of being and best preserves the fire, the blood and the alphabet of Andalusian and universal truth ...
Federico Garcia Lorca
#67. If I die,
leave the balcony open.
The little boy is eating oranges.
(From my balcony I can see him.)
The reaper is harvesting the wheat.
(From my balcony I can hear him.)
If I die,
leave the balcony open!
Federico Garcia Lorca
#68. At five in the afternoon.
It was exactly five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A frail of lime ready prepared
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death, and death alone
Federico Garcia Lorca
#70. At first glance, the rhythm may be confused with gaiety, but when you look more closely at the mechanism of social life and the painful slavery of both men and machines, you see that it is nothing but a kind of typical, empty anguish that makes even crime and gangs forgivable means of escape.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#73. But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#75. I'll always be happy if they'd leave me alone in that delightful and unknown furthest corner, apart from struggles, putrefactions and nonsense; the ultimate corner of sugar and toast, where the mermaids catch the branches of the willows and the heart opens to a flute's sharpness.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#76. Theatre is poetry that rises from the book and becomes human enough to talk and shout, weep and despair
Federico Garcia Lorca
#77. The dreadful nostalgia for a wasted life,
the fatal feeling that you were born too late,
or the restless hope for an impossible morning
with the nearby restlessness of the flesh's ache
Federico Garcia Lorca
#80. The groom is like a flower of gold. When he walks, blossoms at his feet unfold.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#82. If lilies would grow
backwards,
if roses would grow
backwards,
if all those roots
could see the stars
& the dead not close
their eyes,
we would become like swans.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#83. I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads
Federico Garcia Lorca
#86. The Great Sadness
You can't look at yourself
in the ocean.
Your looks fall apart
like tendrils of light.
Night on earth.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#87. In Spain the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#88. Adam & Eve. The serpent cracked the mirror in a thousand pieces, & the apple was his rock.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#90. Damned, damned be the rich! May not even their fingernails be left! ... I'm sure that they are going to Hell head-first.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#91. If blue is dream
what then innocence?
What awaits the heart
if Love bears no arrows?
Federico Garcia Lorca
#93. The children watch
a distant point.
Lamps go out.
Some blind girls
question the moon
and spirals of grief
rise in the air.
The mountains survey
a distant point.
- After Passing By
Federico Garcia Lorca
#95. But two has never been a number
because it's only an anguish and its shadow,
it's only a guitar where love feels how hopeless it is,
it's the proof of someone else's infinity,
and the walls around a dead man,
and the scourging of a new resurrection that will never end.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#97. 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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#99. Look at the longing, the anguish of a sad fossil world / that cannot find the accent of its first sob.
Federico Garcia Lorca
#100. The artist, and particularly the poet, is always an anarchist in the best sense of the word. He must heed only the call that arises within him from three strong voices: the voice of death, with all its foreboding, the voice of love and the voice of art.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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