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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
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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
Women
Mask
Throws
Shoulders
Fills
Grass
Womb
Careful
Handful
Wombs
Soon
Carries
Handfuls
Moon
Carrie
Meningitis
Cold
Bedroom
Bedrooms
Water
Pregnant
Masks
More quotes by Federico Garcia Lorca
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
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
Little black horse. Where are you taking your dead rider?
Federico Garcia Lorca
My poetry is a game. My life is a game. But I am not a game.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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
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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
At the heart of all great art is an essential melancholy.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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
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.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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
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
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
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
A poet must be a professor of the five senses and must open doors among them.
Federico Garcia Lorca
Everything's a fan. Brother, open up your arms. God is the pivot.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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
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
Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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
Hail, mute devil! You are the most intense animal. An eternal mystic of the fleshly inferno.
Federico Garcia Lorca
