Every author that creates is a liar;literature is a lie,but from that lie, a recreation of reality is born. Therefore, recreating reality is one of the fundaments of creation. — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
“The sky was filled with fat stars, swollen from the long night. The moon had risen briefly and then slipped out of sight. It… — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
“What's taking you so long in the privy, son?" "Nothing, mama." "If you stay in there much longer, a snake will come and bite… — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
“I am lying in the same bed where my mother died so long ago; on the same mattress, beneath the same black wool coverlet… — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
“We live in a region where everything is given to us, thanks to Providence, but where everything is bitter.” — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
“Every morning at dawn the village trembles with the rumbling of the wagons. They come in from everywhere, loaded with saltpeter, with corn, with… — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
No one knows better than I do how far heaven is, but I also know all the shortcuts. The secret is to die, when… — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
There was no air; only the dead, still night fired by the dog days of August. Not a breath. I had to suck in… — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last. — Juan Rulfo Copy Share Image
