Quotes from Federico Garcia Lorca

Death, vicious death, Leave a green branch for love.

But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.

What's the furthest corner? Because that's where I want to be, alone with the only thing that I love.

As I have not worried to be born, I do not worry to die.

Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain.

If blue is dream what then innocence? What awaits the heart if Love bears no arrows?

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verde ramas. Green I love you green. Green Wind. Green branches.

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

Porque tú crees que el tiempo cura y que las paredes tapan, y no es verdad, no es verdad.

Don't ask me any questions. I've seen how things that seek their way find their void instead.

Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful! We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead dahlias. But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist; flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths in a thicket of new veins, and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña.

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña. Con la sombra en la cintura ella sueña en su baranda, verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de fría plata.

En la bandera de la libertad bordé el amor más grande de mi vida.

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...

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

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.

Quiero dormir un rato, un rato, un minuto, un siglo; pero que todos sepan que no he muerto; que haya un establo de oro en mis labios; que soy un pequeño amigo del viento Oeste; que soy la sombra inmensa de mis lágrimas

El más terrible de todos los sentimientos es el sentimiento de tener la esperanza muerta.

Every song is the remains of love. Every light the remains of time. A knot of time. And every sigh the remains of a cry. - Every Song

The weeping of the guitar begins. The goblets of dawn are smashed. The weeping of the guitar begins. Useless to silence it. Impossible to silence it. It weeps monotonously as water weeps as the wind weeps over snowfields. Impossible to silence it. It weeps for distant things. Hot southern sands yearning for white camellias. Weeps arrow without target evening without morning and the first dead bird on the branch. Oh, guitar! Heart mortally wounded by five swords.

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

Paint me a heaven of love with your bloodied mouth.

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.