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

Ditty of First Desire In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. A heart. And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.) In the vivid morning I wanted to be myself. A heart. And at the evening's end I wanted to be my voice. A nightingale. Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.

To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.

My head is full of fire and grief and my tongue runs wild, pierced with shards of glass.

I was lucky enough to see with my own eyes the recent stock-market crash, where they lost several million dollars, a rabble of dead money that went sliding off into the sea.

The only things that the United States has given to the world are skyscrapers, jazz, and cocktails. That is all. And in Cuba, in our America, they make much better cocktails.

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