Juan Ramon Jimenez quotes:

Rodin picks a mushroom delighted, and shows it to Madame Rodin... "Look," he says excitedly, "and that takes but a single night! In one night all these are made, all these lamellas. That is good work."

Literature is a state of culture, poetry is a state of grace, before and after culture.

And life takes placeinside us, with the eternal lightof an ecstatic daywhich is going on somewhere else.It is a beautiful thing,something true and not yet real, beautiful!"

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

The greatest assassin of life is haste, the desire to reach things before the right time which means overreaching them.

A permanent state of transition is man's most noble condition.

If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.

I do not cut my life up into days but my days into lives, each day, each hour, an entire life.

Night goes away, a black bull--body heavy with mourning and fear and mystery--it has been bellowing horribly, monstrously,in genuine fear of all the dead;and day arrives, a young childwho wants trust, and love, and jokes,--a child who somewhere far away, in secret placeswhere what ends meets what is starting,has been playing a moment on some meadow or otherof light and darknesswith the bull who is running away...

Time must have covered it overwith roses soit would not be remembered.One particular rose,that has an unexpected magic,on top of each lonely hour of goldor shadows,a place just right to hold painful memories.So that among the divineand joyfulclimbing roses, scarlet, white,which would leave no room for the past,the soul would bewound intothe body.

Dynamic ecstasy is absolute romanticism , absolute heroism . And here I return to my point. From my point of view, after the catastrophe which we feel and think is universal, a catastrophe resulting from an excess of useless dynamism of useless progress, of useless realism, of useless technology, after this an unattainable democracy is to be reached through the conception and realization of a new romanticism.

I unpetalled you, like a rose, to see your soul, and I didn't see it. But everything around -horizons of land and of seas-, everything, out to the infinite, was filled with a fragrance, enormous and alive.

My only two weapons: time and silence.

"¦Perhaps this momentary life of ours is only the light that divides our infinite origin from our infinite end.

The urban man is an uprooted tree, he can put out leaves, flowers and grow fruit but what a nostalgia his leaf, flower, and fruit will always have for mother earth!

I am not I. I am this one walking beside me whom I do not see, whom at times I manage to visit, and whom at other times I forget; who remains calm and silent while I talk, and forgives, gently, when I hate, who walks where I am not, who will remain standing when I die.

Some of my affectionate envious friends say, "You write too much." Maybe, I answer. But as long as the best of your little is worse than the worst of my much, I will keep on doing so.

Back of my forehead I feel tonight A whole sky full of stars. Under a western moon. Life is indeed lovely!

The background reveals the true being and state of being of the man or thing. If I do not possess the background, I make the man transparent, the thing transparent.

A fantasy can be equivalent to a paradise and if the fantasy passes, better yet, because eternal paradise would be very boring.

Every country should realize that its turn at world domination, domination because its rights coincided more or less with the character or progress of the epoch, must terminate with the change brought about by this progress.

Love, you are eternal like springtime.

To live is nothing more than to come here to die, to be what we were before being born, but with apprenticeship, experience, knowledge of cause, and perhaps with will.