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The poem, the song, the picture, is only water drawn from the well of the people, and it should be given back to them in a cup of beauty so that they may drink - and in drinking understand themselves.
Federico Garcia Lorca
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Interpretation

What this quote means

Art is created from the collective experiences of the people and should be returned to them beautifully, allowing for self-reflection.

This quote by Federico Garcia Lorca expresses the idea that artistic expressions such as poems, songs, and pictures originate from the shared life and experiences of society. It emphasizes that these creations should be presented back to the community in a way that resonates with beauty, enabling individuals to gain insights about themselves and their collective identity through the art.

Themes

ArtPeopleBeautyExpressionUnderstanding

In practice

Example use cases

This quote can be used in a discussion on the importance of community in the creation of art.

More from Federico Garcia Lorca

The wounds were burning like suns at five in the afternoon, and the crowd broke the windows At five in the afternoon. Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon! It was five by all the clocks! It was five in the shade of the afternoon!
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There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers' battle with the heavens that cover them. Snow, rain, and mist highlight, drench, or conceal the vast towers, but those towers, hostile to mystery and blind to any sort of play, shear off the rain's tresses and shine their three thousand swords through the soft swan of the fog.
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Death laid its eggs in the wound
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The two elements the traveler first captures in the big city are extra human architecture and furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish.
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New York is something awful, something monstrous. I like to walk the streets, lost, but I recognize that New York is the world's greatest lie. New York is Senegal with machines.
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Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of being without fruit. Why was I born among mirrors? Day goes round and round me. The night copies me in all its stars. I want to live without my reflection. And then let me dream that ants and thistledown are my leaves and my parrots.
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