“I can’t listen to you. I can’t listen to your voice. It’s as though I’d drunk a bottle of anise and fallen… — Federico García Lorca Drowning Copy Share Image
Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. — Federico Garcia Lorca Branches Copy Share Image
But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed. — Federico Garcia Lorca Broken Copy Share Image
What's the furthest corner? Because that's where I want to be, alone with the only thing that I love. — Federico Garcia Lorca Corners Copy Share Image
In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world. — Federico Garcia Lorca Alive Copy Share Image
The two elements the traveler first captures in the big city are extra human architecture and furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish. — Federico Garcia Lorca Anguish Copy Share Image
Relish the fresh landscape of my wound, break rushes and delicate rivulets, drink blood poured on honeyed thigh. — Federico Garcia Lorca Blood Copy Share Image
New York is a meeting place for every race in the world, but the Chinese, Armenians, Russians, and Germans remain foreigners. So… — Federico Garcia Lorca America Copy Share Image
Seville is a tower full of fine archers.... Under the arch of the sky, across the clear plain, she shoots the constant… — Federico Garcia Lorca Archer Copy Share Image
The groom is like a flower of gold. When he walks, blossoms at his feet unfold. — Federico Garcia Lorca Feet Copy Share Image
Theatre is poetry that rises from the book and becomes human enough to talk and shout, weep and despair — Federico Garcia Lorca Book Copy Share Image
The mirror is the mother dew, the book of desiccated twilights, echo become flesh. — Federico Garcia Lorca Book Copy Share Image
“Caracola” They’ve bought me a shell. It sings inside a sea on a map. My heart fills up with water with a… — Federico García Lorca Copy Share Image
“Like a snake, my heart has shed its skin. I hold it here in my hand, full of honey and wounds. -… — Federico García Lorca Copy Share Image
“Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful! We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth or we… — Federico García Lorca Afraid of death Copy Share Image
... the gitano is the most distinguished, profound and aristocratic element in my country, the one that most represents its Way of… — Federico Garcia Lorca Alphabet Copy Share Image
“Like a snake, my heart has shed its skin. I hold it there in my hand, full of honey and wounds. The… — Federico García Lorca Love Copy Share Image
Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain. — Federico Garcia Lorca Green Copy Share Image
My poetry is a game. My life is a game. But I am not a game. — Federico Garcia Lorca Games Copy Share Image
Death, vicious death, Leave a green branch for love. — Federico Garcia Lorca Branches Copy Share Image
I'll always be happy if they'd leave me alone in that delightful and unknown furthest corner, apart from struggles, putrefactions and nonsense;… — Federico Garcia Lorca Always be happy Copy Share Image
I want to be a poet, from head to toe, living and dying by poetry. — Federico Garcia Lorca Dying Copy Share Image
“Porque tú crees que el tiempo cura y que las paredes tapan, y no es verdad, no es verdad.” — Federico García Lorca Copy Share Image
With their souls of patent leather, they come down the road. Hunched and nocturnal, where they breathe they impose, silence of dark… — Federico Garcia Lorca Breathe Copy Share Image
