Quotes from Vicente Aleixandre

The sea seems bound to the deep abyss, crucified, staring at the high heavens, about to escape, violent, bellowing, nailed to its black bed.

Meanwhile, the night orbits in peace, graceful, lovely, having slipped her moorings, leaving the space unmarked, able to orbit, to curve firmly, until she sinks into the sweet clarity now pearling, the cushion of grasses where she will fall, gleaming from mysterious strokings, polished, glittering, mistress of surfaces.

And the noise has turned into waves of blood inside the heart.

But suddenly you got up. You had felt the dark wings, magic token from the depths that calls out to our hearts. You stared at the murmur that now starts in the depths. What shapes did you imagine? What sacred symbols, what precise words did the surf speak, sweet saliva from secret lips that open slightly, naming, mesmerizing, stealing away? The message said . . .

Love is a momentary destruction, a combustion that threatens the pure creature we love, the one who's wounded in our fire. But after we've pulled away from her unraveled flames and looked at her, we see clearly the new, re-formed and flawless life, the quiet, warm life that called to us from the sweet surface of her body. Here is love's perfect vessel, filled and overflowing with its serene and glistening golden blood.

For you and everything alive inside of you, I write, and write.

Your beautiful heart was born to love.

Maybe I can feel today because I'm dying. And my last words will be: I felt.

They fall and endure. They live.

Podemos por ello afirmar que la enfermedad, de alguna forma, le conduce a la poesía, o prepara el camino para su total desarrollo.