Rulfo Juan Quotes & Sayings

People as a whole see a limited scope of the world, chained to their notions, often misguided notions, of what truth is. Seeking something more, I would argue, is the very act of unchaining oneself from the cave wall. — Elizabeth Finn

And though there were no children playing, no doves, no blue-shadowed roof tiles, I felt that the town was alive. And that if I heard only silence, it was because I was not accustomed to silence - maybe because my head was still filled with sounds and voices. — Juan Rulfo

She's saying she used to hide her feet between his legs. Feet icy as cold stones, and that he warmed them, like bread baking in the oven. She says he nibbled her feet saying they were like golden loaves from the oven. And that she slept cuddled close to him, inside his skin, lost in nothingness as she felt her flesh part like a furrow turned by a plow first burning, then warm and gentle thrusting against her soft flesh, deeper, deeper until she cried out ... What shall I do now with my lips without his lips to cover them? What shall become of my poor lips? — Juan Rulfo

The sky was filled with fat stars, swollen from the long night. The moon had risen briefly and then slipped out of sight. It was one of those sad moons that no one looks at or pays attention to. It had hung there a while, misshapen, not shedding any light, and then gone to hide behind the hills. — Juan Rulfo

That town sits on the coals of the earth, at the very mouth of hell. They say that when people from there go to hell, they come back for a blanket. — Juan Rulfo

She was dead set on becoming his mate, regardless of how he felt." A little growl slipped through me. "Mate," Dastien said softly to me. I tried to breathe through the jealousy. Dastien placed his warm hand in mine and calm poured into me. — Aileen Erin

I hated meeting people at bars when I was single because it's all about the looks and the funny line. — Sam Yagan

None of this is true. I've said Autun, but it could easily have been Auxerre. I'm sure you'll come to realize that. I am only putting down details which entered me, fragments that were able to part my flesh. It's a story of things that never existed although even the faintest doubt of that, the smallest possibility, plunges everything into darkness. I only want whoever reads this to be as resigned as I am. There's enough passion in the world already. Everything trembles with it. Not that I believe it shouldn't exist, no, no, but this is only a thin, reflecting sliver which somehow keeps catching the light. — James Salter

There you'll find the place I love most in the world. The place where I grew thin from dreaming. My village, rising from the plain. Shaded with trees and leaves like a piggy bank filled with memories. You'll see why a person would want to live there forever. Dawn, morning, mid-day, night: all the same, except for the changes in the air. The air changes the color of things there. And life whirs by as quiet as a murmur ... the pure murmuring of life. — Juan Rulfo

This world presses in on us from every side; it scatters fistfuls of our dust across the land
and takes bits and pieces of us as if to water the earth with our blood. What did we do? Why
have our souls rotted away? — Juan Rulfo

Gymnastics, for me, gave me a lot of self-pride: that drive to want to be great at something for myself. But it also gave me a sense of appreciation toward God. Now that I'm getting older, I really appreciate the talents God gave me. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. — Amanda Borden

I found Malta a lovely little place, but one that anyone would quickly get fed up with. There seems to be an overabundance of priests and goats here, and an all-pervading smell of garlic. The people are a pretty greasy lot on the whole, nearly all speaking English and all intent on robbing the English. The whole place seems overrun with sailors and mariners, both English and French, but they have apparently nothing better to do than spend their time in the drinking and eating houses in the various 'rags'. I'll pass over a description — Harry Askin

No one knows better than I do how far heaven is, but I also know all the shortcuts. The secret is to die, when you want to, and not when He proposes. Or else to force Him to take you before your time. — Juan Rulfo

Fresh wounds," said Angua. "But one of them did shoot one of the other in the leg by accident."
"I think you'd better put in your report as -self inflicted- wounds while resisting arrest," said Vimes. — Terry Pratchett

You've been dreaming lies again, Susana. — Juan Rulfo

On Juan Rulfo:
His published writings add up to no more than 300 pages, but they are just as many, and I believe just as enduring, as those that we know of Sophocles. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

And again, as always, after so many years we were still in the same place we always were. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Every author that creates is a liar;literature is a lie,but from that lie, a recreation of reality is born. Therefore, recreating reality is one of the fundaments of creation. — Juan Rulfo

George got out his banjo after supper, and wanted to play it, but Harris objected: he said he had got a headache, and did not feel strong enough to stand it. George thought the music might do him good - said music often soothed the nerves and took away a headache; and he twanged two or three notes, just to show Harris what it was like.
Harris said he would rather have the headache. — Jerome K. Jerome

Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last. — Juan Rulfo

Discovered it had an emergency back-up personality — Douglas Adams

I am truly a "lone traveler" and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my immediate family, with my whole heart. — Albert Einstein

Cover your selfe with your shield, and care not for cryes. — George Herbert

Because to write, one must truly suffer. — Juan Rulfo

I am talking about misery and all of its implications. — Juan Rulfo

I am lying in the same bed where my mother died so long ago; on the same mattress,
beneath the same black wool coverlet she wrapped us in to sleep. I slept beside her, her
little girl, in the special place she made for me in her arms.
I think I can still feel the calm rhythm of her breathing; the palpitations and sighs that
soothed my sleep ... I think I feel the pain of her death ... But that isn't true.
Here I lie, flat on my back, hoping to forget my loneliness by remembering those times.
Because I am not here just for a while. And I am not in my mother's bed but in a black box
like the ones for burying the dead. Because I am dead.
I sense where I am, but I can think ... — Juan Rulfo

Love turns blind eye. And it's unpredictable. — Mary Elizabeth

Is there a recipe for making beauty? The schools give recipes, but they do not beget works that make people exclaim: How beautiful that is! — Paul Gauguin

There was no air; only the dead, still night fired by the dog days of August. Not a breath. I had to suck in the same air I exhaled, cupping it in my hands before it escaped. I felt it, in and out, less each time ... until it was so thin it slipped through my fingers forever. I mean, forever. — Juan Rulfo

Her eyelashes lay still; her heart was still. — Juan Rulfo

This town is filled with echoes. It's like they were trapped behind the walls, or beneath the cobblestones. When you walk you feel like someone's behind you, stepping in your footsteps. — Juan Rulfo