Quote by Federico García Lorca

“Naked solitude with neither gesture nor word. Transparent in the orchard, smooth as oil on the hill. Silent solitude with neither fragrance nor weathervane, weighing on the backwaters, drowsy and alone. Lofty solitude, all brow and bright stars, like a huge pallid head, lopped off. Round solitude that leaves in our hands soft lilies of pensive frost. On the curve of the river I waited long hours for you. I was clean at last of arabesques and fleeting rhythms. Your garden of violets was budding somewhere over the wind, and you shivered there alone, loving yourself…”

Quote by Federico García Lorca