Spanish poet & playwright (1898-1936)
The mirror
is the mother dew,
the book of desiccated
twilights, echo become flesh.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Capriccio"
Damned, damned be the rich! May not even their fingernails be left!... I'm sure that they are going to Hell head-first.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
Doña Rosita, the Spinster
As I have not worried to be born, I do not worry to die.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
interview with Luis Bagaria, El Sol, June 10, 1936
Between your love for me and mine for you
--air of stars and tremor of plant--
a thicket of anemones raises
with a dark moan an entire year.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Sonnet of the Garland of Roses"
Old women can see through walls.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
The House of Bernarda Alba
I want to be a poet, from head to toe, living and dying by poetry.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
letter to Melchor Fernandez Almagro, February 1926