Antonio Machado
Antonio Machado
Antonio Machado, in full Antonio Cipriano José María y Francisco de Santa Ana Machado y Ruiz, was a Spanish poet and one of the leading figures of the Spanish literary movement known as the Generation of '98...
NationalitySpanish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth26 July 1875
CitySeville, Spain
CountrySpain
spiritual path behinds
By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind sees the path
inspirational path made
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path. . .
writing order firsts
In order to write poetry, you must first invent a poet who will write it.
made walking
There is no road, the road is made by walking.
hands circles waiting
Hell is the bloodcurdling mansion of time, in whose profoundest circle Satan himself waits, winding a gargantuan watch in his hand.
ocean anchors sea
Mankind owns four things that are no good at sea: rudder, anchor, oars and the fear of going down.
thinking language
The only living language is the language in which we think and have our being.
change personality world
There is no one so bound to his own face that he does not cherish the hope of presenting another to the world.
path walking
Pathmaker, there is no path; You make the path by walking, By walking you make the Path
flower garden wind
The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. "In return for the odor of my jasmine, I'd like all the odor of your roses." "I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead." "Well then, I'll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain." the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself: "What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?
writing soul sin
The unpublished manuscript is like an uncon-fessed sin that festers in the soul, corrupting and contaminating it.
wall memories spring
The afternoon is bright, with spring in the air, a mild March afternoon, with the breath of April stirring, I am alone in the quiet patio looking for some old untried illusion - some shadow on the whiteness of the wall some memory asleep on the stone rim of the fountain, perhaps in the air the light swish of some trailing gown.
truth passion men
Man's passion for truth is such that he will welcome the bitterest of all postulates so long as it strikes him as true.
culture illusion consolation
Wherever learning breeds specialists, the sum of human culture is enhanced thereby. That is the illusion and consolation of specialists.