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Relish the fresh landscape of my wound, break rushes and delicate rivulets, drink blood poured on honeyed thigh.

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
Fresh
Rivulets
Wounds
Thigh
Landscape
Rushes
Drink
Poured
Blood
Thighs
Break
Relish
Wound
Delicate
Honeyed

More quotes by Federico Garcia Lorca

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The one thing life has taught me is that most people spend their lives bottled up inside their houses doing the things they hate.
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The mirror is the mother dew, the book of desiccated twilights, echo become flesh.
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We're all curious about what might hurt us.
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Damned, damned be the rich! May not even their fingernails be left!... I'm sure that they are going to Hell head-first.
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The world is a shoulder of dark meat (black flesh of an old mule). And the light is on the other side.
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Only mystery allows us to live, only mystery.
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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.
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...I am the immense shadow of my tears
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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.
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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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All one's personality is embedded in gloves and hats after they've been good and used. Show me a glove and I'll tell you the character of its owner.
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My head is full of fire and grief and my tongue runs wild, pierced with shards of glass.
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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.
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Life is laughter amid a rosary of death.
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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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What's the furthest corner? Because that's where I want to be, alone with the only thing that I love.
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The theater has to impose itself on the public, and not the public on the theater... The word Art should be written everywhere, in the auditorium and in the dressing rooms, before the word Business gets written there.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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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.
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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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In the garden I will die. In the rosebush they will kill me.
Federico Garcia Lorca