Francisco Goya Quotes

Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.

Fantasy abandoned by reason produces impossible monsters

El sueño de la razón produce monstruos (The sleep of reason produces monsters)

El sueno de la razon produce monstuos

Always lines, never forms! But where do they find these lines in Nature? For my part I see only forms that are lit up and forms that are not. There is only light and shadow.

El Sueno de la razon produce monstrous. (The sleep of reason breeds monsters)

La fantasía abandonada de la razón produce monstruos imposibles: unida con ella es madre de las artes y origen de las maravillas" -Explicación de la estampa "El sueño de la razón" de Francisco Goya del manuscrito del Museo del Prado

The slumber of reason breeds monsters.

The sleep of reason produces monsters

El sueño de la razón produce monstruos

Francisco Goya did an etching which showed himself surrounded by fantastical creatures as he dozed, and called it The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters.

His [Francisco Goya's] debt to the Christianity of the eighteenth century is contained in the idea that politics was just adopting from the Gospels: the conviction that man has a right to justice. Such a statement would seem utterly conceited to a Roman, who would doubtless have looked upon the Disasters as we look upon photographs of the amphitheatre...But if Goya thought that man has not come onto the earth to be cut to pieces he thought that he must have come here for something. Is it to live in joy and honour? Not only that; it is to come to terms with the world. And the message he never ceased to preach, a message underlined by war, is that man only comes to terms with the world by blinding himself with childishness.

presidential elections in American history. Jackson's candidacy established a new political party: the Democratic Party. Composer Franz Schubert and painter Francisco Goya died in 1828. Jules Verne, Leo Tolstoy, Henrik Ibsen, and Dante Gabriel Rosetti were born that year. So was Joshua Laurence Chamberlain of Maine. Chamberlain grew up to be president

A Carlos, como a su padre, y como a todo buen Borbón, lo que le gustaba era cazar (no en vano se le conocía con el sobrenombre de Carlos «el Cazador») o si acaso asistir a una o dos misas diarias. Cuando llovía, al parecer se dedicaba a oficios más manuales, como la relojería, algo de lo más insólito en un monarca, y también se dedicaba en sus momentos más creativos a martirizar los oídos de sus cortesanos con la práctica de un violín Stradivarius. A Goya le tocó ejercer de crítico en algunos de sus conciertos privados, aunque afortunadamente era sordo y se limitaba a asentir con la cabeza mientras el rey torturaba su instrumento.

Me imagino a Goya haciéndome el honor de leer estas páginas —como usted, que las está leyendo ahora— y sonriendo con ácido cinismo con lo equivocado que estoy al interpretar su vida y su obra. Malinterpretando su mensaje. Me imagino uno de sus Caprichos sobre este libro: una estampa de un burro tecleando en su ordenador. Y abajo, inscrito con su mágica caligrafía: «Se creen que me entienden».

Aun Aprendo

The sleep of reason produces monsters.

three paintings I recognize. The first is Ary Scheffer’s, Francesca da Rimini painting showing a couple in lust. The second painting is John Collier, depicting Lilith with a snake wrapped around her body known as a demoness for thirst and revenge[KW1] . The third painting is of Francisco Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son but if I remember it correctly, it is argued that the body being devoured looks like a female instead of male.

The sleep of reason breeds monsters.

«El sueño de la razón produce monstruos»

Caravaggio, Francis Bacon, Hieronymus Bosch, Francisco Goya, Henry Fuseli.

The soft glow of the afternoon light fills my apartment, casting a warm embrace over everything it touches. It's 4:30 PM, and the distant hum of the city seeps through the windows, a subtle reminder of life beyond these walls. Maddie lies beside me with sunlight playing across her skin, turning it into a canvas of peaches and cream. I'm captivated by how the light accentuates her form's softness, the delicate peach fuzz that covers her, and the single white hair amidst my chest hairs that she idly twirls with her fingers. 'We've been lucky this weekend,' I murmur, the words barely a whisper, lost in the moment's tranquility. She laughs softly, a sound that fills the room with warmth. 'I'm sorry for not being quieter earlier... I hope Mrs. Halverson didn't hear.' I shake my head, smiling at the thought of my elderly neighbor. "She's probably out with Mr. Piffles, enjoying the afternoon.' Reluctantly, I slide out of bed, feeling the cool air against my skin. I dress quietly, aware of Maddie's gaze following me. She doesn't say anything, but we both know the weekend is drawing to a close, and reality awaits us. As I finish getting dressed, Maddie watches me silently. Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she reclines in bed, striking a pose reminiscent of Goya’s La Maja Desnuda. 'Do I compare to Pepita Tudó?' she asks, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 'You're far prettier,' I assure her, and I mean every word.