Explore Quotes by Frida Kahlo

I am that clumsy human, always loving, loving, loving. And loving. And never leaving.

At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can.

To feel the anguish of waiting for the next moment and of taking part in the complex current (of affairs) not knowing that we are headed toward ourselves, through millions of stone beings - of bird beings - of star beings - of microbe beings - of fountain beings toward ourselves.

Passion is the bridge that takes you from pain to change.

I want a storm to come and flood us into a song that no one wrote.

Your word travels the entirety of space and reaches my cells which are my stars then goes to yours which are my light.

Really, I do not know whether my paintings are surrealist or not, but I do know that they are the frankest expression of myself.

I don’t like the gringos at all. They are very boring and all have faces like unbaked rolls.

I must fight with all my strength so that the little positive things that my health allows me to do might be pointed toward helping the revolution. The only real reason for living.

You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.”

My blood is a miracle that, from my veins, crosses the air in my heart into yours.

I never knew I was a surrealist till Andre Breton came to Mexico and told me I was.

I am not sick. I am broken. But I am happy as long as I can paint.

Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are a bourbon biscuit.

Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away.

I love you more than my own skin and even though you don’t love me the same way, you love me anyways, don’t you? And if you don’t, I’ll always have the hope that you do, and i’m satisfied with that. Love me a little. I adore you.

I wish I could do whatever I liked behind the curtain of “madness”. Then: I’d arrange flowers, all day long, I’d paint; pain, love and tenderness, I would laugh as much as I feel like at the stupidity of others, and they would all say: “Poor thing, she’s crazy!” (Above all I would laugh at my own stupidity.) I would build my world which while I lived, would be in agreement with all the worlds. The day, or the hour, or the minute that I lived would be mine and everyone else’s - my madness would not be an escape from “reality”.

It was worthwhile to come here only to see why Europe is rottening, why all this people - good for nothing - are the cause of all the Hitlers and Mussolinis.

There is nothing more precious than laughter

I paint flowers so they will not die.

pain, pleasure and death are no more than a process for existence. The revolutionary struggle in this process is a doorway open to intelligence