36 quotes found
"Poets appeared like flowers on the earth."
"Love, love, love, LOVE where do you hide forever? In the deep. But so deep in ourselves."
"At times I don't know if Hunger or the World allowing Hunger pains me more."
"you see bread is never enough and the soul is always hungry"
"Alone in my room, spinning with the whole world in my head from the day I was born."
"I learned to dream on the roof of the house"
"100 painters engraving their dreams on skin"
"if you feed us the bread of love we will all grow stronger with fraternity with pity with serenity,"
"Ay, those who can't shed light nor let others shed light."
"If you don't like this world we'll change it with kisses"
"I'm just a worm with metaphysical necessities wanting to rise but lacking sun"
"We are born old how life descends and one gets younger."
"I can climb to the top story of the highest poem and throw myself into the vacuum of a life."
"Life itself returns over destruction, putting out death. (1963)"
"We think of these people as primitive, uneducated, crude. But bringing myself a bit closer to their lives, I felt with emotion their capacity for kindness which they radiate, because they contain it, towards any stranger. Every civilized-intelligent person, whom I have known, tends towards evil, coldness, distrust of friend. Every civilized-intelligent person, seated one step above the rest, perhaps in order to spit down on them and shout; "because I am intelligent" -with the right to everything, above everyone. I've come to the conclusion, after briefly touching these high villages without aspirations, that intelligence is not one of the human values I respect. It's inhuman. Especially since those gifted with super doses of cerebral juice can't seem to live in peace with each other. They isolate themselves and retreat from a reality they insist on showing their back. There I found men who escape all definition. Perhaps "pure" is the poor word best fitting. I feel not that "I've arrived" in a marvelous world, but that "I've left" the inclement garbage of the city. (1963)"
"There is space, I say this from my heart, to reconstruct the world. (September 1963)"
"I was four thousand feet high. And more. In the heart of stone of the Andes. The open mouth of the earth surprised me, with its deep color. Like one of her fruits, the coffee bean...A difficult earth, only a bit of earth stretched over the sleeping eye of a volcano. One day she awakes, yawns and swallows an entire village with its men, its screams and its trees. (September 1963)"
"Another day the poor inhabitants lift themselves from the ruins and right there begin to reconstruct the roads; children without shoes, but with joy on their shoulders, return to carry the future. (September 1963)"
"The Nadaistas are a miracle. In many ways they are fighters. I've never seen a whole nation living the exaltation of poetry as if it were a political party. After my reading, I tried to save myself from the Cali effusion and I retreated to my dark room in the hotel. Success frightened me. Or the noise of the crowds. (1964)"
"I'm writing a prologue for the Ajy Tojen like nothing ever read in literature. (1964)"
"Long live the thieves! They don't make a lie of their lives in this wormy society. They are what they are. Sincere in their disgrace. Working with them I've learnt the importance of loyalty and honor."
"Generally, a revolution isn't enough. For me, it's changing one chaos for another. The important thing is to know that which from this moment is to be constructed."
"Raquel Jodorowsky's poems, in form as well as content, have had an enduring impact."
"I remember her as both compact and graceful, shorter than me but with contagious energy. She had long dark hair and eyes that seemed backlit by a magical knowing. Having traveled from Peru, she brought with her its tenuous Andean air and wailing reed pipes. Vivacious and determined, she filled a room with vibrant power. Her poetry captivated us all."
"Raquel was also clearly accustomed to being a lone woman among men. But she operated on a different strata, not because of her gender but because her lifestyle and goals situated her beyond all social constraints. When she read her work, the air turned electric. We listened in awe."
"Another of Raquel's letters included a few lines that continue to resonate with me. She wrote: "You can't imagine, my brother, how much I've thought of our children. In all they have yet to touch, create and do. There is space, I say this from my heart, to reconstruct the world." Today Raquel is long gone, and I am thinking not of our children or grandchildren but of my two young great-grandchildren. Is there still space to reconstruct the world? It doesn't feel like it. And yet I believe that the spirit that palpitates in Raquel's work urges that reconstruction even more now than it did then. And that poetry and art remain our best resistance to the horrors that besiege us."
"In yet another poem, "Chewing" she writes: "This is the first time on earth for me / but I've been in other mouths before and my / heart has beaten in another tongue." And later, in an untitled poem, she describes herself: "Raquel maker of useless poems, says: / I want to regain my dignity / in the poorest spot on earth / dressed in a song to write a song / that doesn't pretend to amuse, honor or impress..." This work is a cry against social hypocrisy, entitlement, consumerism, complacency, ostentation and false idols. Without following party lines or using political jargon, poets such as Raquel honor values necessary to effecting positive social change."
"Men have to share with us the family roles and we women have to share with them the public role in society and of course, in the Church."
"I wish to inform the reader that even though this is a mystery, it is a mystery without murder. He will not find here any corpse, any detective; he will not even find a murder trial, for the simple reason that there will be no murderer. There will be no murderer and no murder, yet there will be....crime. And there will be fear. Those for whom fear has an attraction; those who are interested in the mysterious life people live in their dreams during sleep; those who believe that the dead are not really dead; those who are afraid of the fog and of their own hearts... they will perhaps enjoy going back to the early days of this century and entering into the strange house of mist that a young woman, very much like all other women, built for herself at the southern end of South America."
"The story I am about to tell is the story of my life. It begins where other stories usually end; I mean, it begins with a wedding, a really strange wedding, my own. (beginning of chapter one)"
"As night was beginning to fall, slowly her eyes opened. Oh, a little, just a little. It was as if, hidden behind her long lashes, she was trying to see. And in the glow of the tall candles, those who were keeping watch leaned forward to observe the clarity and transparency in that narrow fringe of pupil death had failed to dim. With wonder and reverence, they leaned forward, unaware that she could see them. For she was seeing, she was feeling."
"Day by day, proud human beings that we are, we have a tendency to renounce our elemental roots, which accounts for the fact that women no longer appreciate their braids. Being rationalists nowadays, women in cutting off their braids ignore that in effect they are severing their ties with those magic currents which issue from the very heart of the earth. Because a woman's hair springs from the most profound and mysterious source, whence is born the first trembling seed of life-evolving therefrom to struggle and grow among many entangling forces, thrusting through the vegetal surface into the air and on upwards to the privileged forehead of its choice."
"I am privy to much that is unknown. Of sea and earth and sky I know an infinity of small and magic secrets. This time, however, I will tell only about the sea."
"For the majority of readers, Latin American fantastic literature operates under the tutelage of the great masters: Jorge Luis Borges, Adolfo Bioy Casares, Julio Cortázar and Gabriel García Márquez. However, although few are acquainted with their works, many women began experimenting with this genre well before their male counterparts and were the true precursors of the form, though their names remained on the shelves of oblivion, without the recognition that they deserved. María Luisa Bombal, for example, wrote the fantastic nouvelle, House of Mist (1937) before the famous Ficciones (1944) of Borges..."
"Today, in Santiago, Chile, or Buenos Aires, in Caracas or Lima, when they name the best names, María Luisa Bombal is never missing from the list. This fact is even more notable when one considers the brevity of her work-which does not correspond to any determined "school" and which fortunately is devoid of any regionalism."
"Here’s a very short list of Latin women novelists I think should have been considered part of the Boom…Mexico: Elena Garro, Rosario Castellanos. Costa Rica: Carmen Naranjo. Brazil: Clarice Lispector. Uruguay: Armonía Somers. Chile: María Luisa Bombal. Argentina: Silvina Ocampo, Nora Lange, Elvira Orphée..."