The wounds were burning like suns at five in the afternoon, and the crowd broke the windows At five in the afternoon. Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon! It was five by all the clocks! It was five in the shade of the afternoon!

Today in my heart a vague trembling of stars and all roses are as white as my pain.

In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.

The two elements the traveler first captures in the big city are extra human architecture and furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish.

The terrible thing is that the crowd that fills the street believes that the world will always be the same and that it is their duty to keep that huge machine running, day and night, forever. This is what comes of a Protestant morality, that I, as a (thank God) typical Spaniard, found unnerving.

The day that hunger is eradicated from the earth there will be the greatest spiritual explosion the world has ever known. Humanity cannot imagine the joy that will burst into the world.

I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads