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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

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Federico Garcia Lorca
Age: 38 †
Born: 1898
Born: June 5
Died: 1936
Died: August 19
Author
Drawer
Lyricist
Musician
Playwright
Poet
Theatrical Director
Madrid
Spain
García Lorca
García Lorca
Federico
G. F. Lorca
Federiḳo Garsiyah Lorḳah
Federiko Garsii︠a︡ Lorka
Federiko Garsia Lorka
Federico Carcía Lorca
Phenteriko Gkarthia Lorka
Lorka
Phederiko Gkarthia Lorka
F. García Lorca
Federico Garcia Lorca
F. G. Lorca
Frederico Garcia Lorca
Lorca
Federico Garciá Lorca
Federico del Sagrado Corazon de Je
Death
Prepared
Exactly
Lime
Boys
Limes
Rest
Sheet
Ready
Frail
Alone
Sheets
Five
Afternoon
White
Brought

More quotes by Federico Garcia Lorca

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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.
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The mirror is the mother dew, the book of desiccated twilights, echo become flesh.
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I'm afraid to be on this shore a trunk without limbs, and what I most regret is not to have flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my suffering.
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Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.
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What matters most has an ultimate metallic quality of death. The chasuble and the wagon wheel, the razor and the prickly beards of shepherds, the bare moon, a fly, humid cupboards, rubble piles, the images of saints covered in lace, quicklime, and the wounding edges of the rooflines and watchtowers.
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My poetry is a game. My life is a game. But I am not a game.
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Little black horse. Where are you taking your dead rider?
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Those who are afraid of death will carry it on their shoulders.
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Angel and Muse approach from without the Angel sheds light and the Muse gives form (Hesiod learned of them). Gold leaf or chiton-folds: the poet finds his models in his laurel coppice. But the Duende, on the other hand, must come to life in the nethermost recesses of the blood.
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In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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Everything's a fan. Brother, open up your arms. God is the pivot.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers' battle with the heavens that cover them. Snow, rain, and mist highlight, drench, or conceal the vast towers, but those towers, hostile to mystery and blind to any sort of play, shear off the rain's tresses and shine their three thousand swords through the soft swan of the fog.
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What shall I say about poetry? What shall I say about those clouds, or about the sky? Look look at them look at it! And nothing more. Don't you understand anything about poetry? Leave that to the critics and the professors. For neither you, nor I, nor any poet knows what poetry is.
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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.
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What's the furthest corner? Because that's where I want to be, alone with the only thing that I love.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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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.
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Besides black art, there is only automation and mechanization.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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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
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New York is a meeting place for every race in the world, but the Chinese, Armenians, Russians, and Germans remain foreigners. So does everyone except the blacks. There is no doubt but that the blacks exercise great influence in North America, and, no matter what anyone says, they are the most delicate, spiritual element in that world.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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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.
Federico Garcia Lorca