Gustavo Quotes

A developed country is not a place where the poor have cars. It's where the rich use public transportation.

The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted to tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don't belong to English though I belong nowhere else

The soul that can speak through the eyes can also kiss with a gaze.

¿Qué es poesía? --dices mientras clavas en mi pupila tu pupila azul. ¿Qué es poesía? ¿Y tú me lo preguntas? Poesía... eres tú.

¡Los suspiros son aire y van al aire! ¡Las lágrimas son agua y van al mar! Dime, mujer, cuando el amor se olvida ¿sabes tú adónde va?

Por una mirada un mundo; por una sonrisa, un cielo; por un beso…¡yo no sé qué te diera por un beso!

If there is no friendship with them [the poor] and no sharing of the life of the poor, then there is no authentic commitment to liberation, because love exists only among equals.

[Neighbor is] not he whom I find in my path, but rather he in whose path I place myself, he whom I approach and actively seek.

El alma que hablar puede con los ojos también puede besar con la mirada.

Mientras la humanidad siempre avanzando, No sepa a do camina; Mientras haya un misterio para el hombre, ¡Habrá poesía!

Yo no sé si ese mundo de visiones vive fuera o va dentro de nosotros.

Your life depends on a random stranger who could kill you, will probably disrespect you, and will most likely pay you much less than you deserve. But even those prospects are better than the ones you used to have. This is the life of los jornaleros – the day laborers.

The denunciation of injustice implies the rejection of the use of Christianity to legitimize the established order.

But the poor person does not exist as an inescapable fact of destiny. His or her existence is not politically neutral, and it is not ethically innocent. The poor are a by-product of the system in which we live and for which we are responsible. They are marginalized by our social and cultural world. They are the oppressed, exploited proletariat, robbed of the fruit of their labor and despoiled of their humanity. Hence the poverty of the poor is not a call to generous relief action, but a demand that we go and build a different social order.

If I am hungry, that is a material problem; if someone else is hungry, that is a spiritual problem.

Por los tenebrosos rincones de mi cerebro, acurrucados y desnudos, duermen los extravagantes hijos de mi fantasía esperando en silencio que el Arte los vista de la palabra para poder presentarse decentes en la escena del mundo.

As long as science fails to discover the sources of life, as long as, on sea or in the sky, there is an abyss that is resistant to mathematical reckoning, as long as mankind in its steady progress is ignorant of where it's heading, as long as a mystery exists for man, there will be poetry!

What is poetry? you ask, while fixing your blue pupil on mine. What is poetry! And you are asking me? Poetry...is you.

¡El amor...! El amor es un rayo de luna

Charity is today a 'political charity.'. . . it means the transformation of a society structured to benefit a few who appropriate to themselves the value of the work of others. This transformation ought to be directed toward a radical change in the foundation of society, that is, the private ownership of the means of production.

The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted to tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don’t belong to English though I belong nowhere else Gustavo Pérez Firmat

The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted to tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don't belong to English though I belong nowhere else, if not here in English.

a decent provision for the poor is the true test of civilization.

We take it for granted that Jesus was not interested in political life: his mission was purely religious. Indeed we have witnessed . . . the 'iconization' of the life of Jesus: 'This is a Jesus of hieratic, stereotyped gestures, all representing theological themes. In this way, the life of Jesus is no longer a human life, submerged in history, but a theological life -- an icon.

Gustavo! Stop shaking your fists at that mermaid! You’ll scare away potential customers!

Poverty means death,” Gustavo writes. This death, however, is not only physical but mental and cultural as well. It refers to the destruction of individual persons, peoples, cultures, and traditions.

History is no longer as it was for the Greeks, an anamnesis, a remembrance. It is rather a thrust into the future.

The theory of dependence will take the wrong path and lead to deception if the analysis is not put within the framework of the worldwide class struggle.

Me cuesta trabajo saber qué cosas he soñado y cuáles me han sucedido. Mis afectos se reparten entre fantasmas de la imaginación y personajes reales.

There are not two histories, one profane and one sacred, 'juxtaposed' or 'closely linked.' Rather there is only one human destiny.

No digáis que, agotado su tesoro, de asuntos falta, enmudeció la lira; podrá no haber poetas; pero siempre habrá poesía.

In the final analysis, poverty means death: lack of food and housing, the inability to attend properly to health and education needs, the exploitation of workers, permanent unemployment, the lack of respect for one's human dignity, and unjust limitations placed on personal freedom in the areas of self-expression, politics, and religion.

no es posible olvidar que el fundador de la filosofía racionalista, Platón, fue al mismo tiempo el mayor defensor y cultivador de los mitos (de algunas especies de mitos); y en ello no disintió Aristóteles, cuando decía que el filósofo es amante de los mitos «porque le gusta lo maravilloso».

¡Lástima que el Amor un diccionario no tenga donde hallar cuándo el orgullo es simplemente orgullo y cuándo es dignidad! What a shame that love has no dictionary in which to ascertain when pride is simply pride and when it's 'dignity'!

Ese soy yo, que al caso cruzo el mundo, sin pensar de donde vengo, ni adonde mis pasos me llevarán

the basis of our preferential option for the poor to say: I accompany them not because they are all good, or because I am all good, but because God is good.

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "Si abordas cada situación como asunto de vida o muerte, morirás muchas veces" (Adam Smith)

The unqualified affirmation of the univeral will of salvation has radically changed the way of conceiving the mission of the Church in the world. . . . The work of salvation is a reality which occurs in history.

But there is one thing that is privileged to be a paradoxical sign of God, in relation to which men are able to manifest their deepest commitment -- our Neighbor. The sacrament of our Neighbor!' -- Congar

...era poeta, tanto que nunca le habían satisfecho las formas en que pudiera encerrar sus pensamientos, y nunca los había encerrado al escribirlos.

Poder decir adiós es crecer

The God of Exodus is the God of history and of political liberation more than he is the God of nature.

¡Amar! Había nacido para soñar el amor, no para sentirlo".

Dices que tienes corazón, y sólo lo dices porque sientes sus latidos. Eso no es corazón...; es una máquina, que, al compás que se mueve, hace ruido.

Separarse de la especie por algo superior no es soberbia, es amor... poder decir adiós, es crecer.

If there is no friendship with them and no sharing of the life of the poor, then there is no authentic commitment to liberation, because love exists only among equals.

One must learn to be rich. To be poor, anyone can manage.

As Teresa of Avila says, “God does not give himself entirely to us, unless we give ourselves entirely to God.

La memoria es una serpiente que cambia de piel a cada instante. Es engañosa, se acomoda a tu estado de ánimo y a tus nuevas experiencias.

I'm so chill, people think I'm Alaskan. - Gustavo Tiberius

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "El Conocimiento es Poder" (Francis Bacon)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "No puedo enseñar nada a nadie. Solo puedo hacerles pensar" (Sócrates)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "La buena conciencia es la mejor almohada para dormir" (Sócrates)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "La verdadera Sabiduría está en reconocer la propia ignorancia" (Sócrates)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "Happiness consists in realizing it is all a great strange dream" (Jack Kerouac)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "La habilidad de exponer una idea es tan importante como la idea en sí misma" (Aristóteles)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "Elige a personas mayores para que sean tus enemigos. Ellos mueren. Tú ganas" (Albert Einstein)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "En general, las nueve décimas partes de nuestra felicidad se fundamentan en la salud" (Arthur Schopenhauer)

I still love you, Gustavo, but it's a habitual love, a wound in the knee that predicts rain.

Gustavo was a whale and Josy was his barnacle. It was just meant to be.

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "Una verdad que se dice con mala intención. Supera todas las mentiras que puedas inventar" (William Blake)

He, Jeff, and Troy Lee carried Super Soakers loaded with Grandma Lee's Vampire Cat Remedy, other Animals had garden sprayers slung on their backs, except for Gustavo, who thought that making him carry a garden sprayer was racial stereotyping. Gustavo had a flame thrower. He wouldn't say where he got it. "Second Amendment, cabrones." (The guy who sold Gustavo his green card had included two amendments from the Bill of Rights and Gustavo had chosen Two and Four, the right to bear arms and freedom from unreasonable search and seizure. [His sister Estrella had had seizures as a child. No bueno.] For five bucks extra he threw in the Third Amendment, which Gustavo bought because he was already sharing a three-bedroom house in Richmond with nineteen cousins and they didn't have any room to quarter soldiers.)

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "Aquellos que educan bien a los niños deberían ser más honorados que los que los producen; los primeros solo les dan la vida, los segundos el arte de vivir bien" (Aristóteles)

That's the thing, Gussy. Some choices hurt. Some decisions hurt. But the only reason they hurt is because you care about them so much. You were my good decision, Gustavo. My right one. I've always thought so.

Por los tenebrosos rincones de mi cerebro, acurrucados y desnudos, duermen los extravagantes hijos de mi fantasía, esperando en silencio que el arte los vista de la palabra para poderse presentar decentes en la escena del mundo.

Every morning she went to the eight o'clock service at the basilica of Santa María del Mar, and she confessed no less than three times a week, four in warm weather. Don Gustavo, who was a confirmed agnostic (which Bernarda suspected might be a respiratory condition, like asthma, but afflicting only refined gentlemen), deemed it mathematically impossible that the maid should be able to sin sufficiently to keep up that schedule of confession and contrition.

Well, now,” Mrs. Havisham said, all but purring as she leaned forward, ample cleavage on display. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you? Tell me, Gustavo. What are your thoughts on having an experienced lover?” “Not many,” Gus said. “In fact, none at all. Also? I came out when I was thirteen. You were there. As was the whole town. Pastor Tommy announced it at the Fall Harvest Festival. On stage. Into a microphone. There was apple pie afterward.” “Still?” she said with an exaggerated pout. “Yes,” Gus said, deadpan as he could make it. “Still. Funny how that works.” “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” she said, dragging a pink fingernail down his arm. “My door is always open. Like my body.” “That’s not even remotely healthy,” Gus said with a sniff. “Maybe that’s why I need your protein,” she said with a wink. “Nope,” Gus said. “Nope, nope, nope.” “You sure about that?” “Maybe you should close that door. And your legs.

¿Qué importa el sitio donde yo resida, si soy siempre el mismo y el que debo ser [...] vale más reinar en el infierno que servir en el cielo.

No

Paseando por entre la indiferente multitud esta silenciosa tempestad de mi cabeza.

Lo que me importa es demostrar a un pedante que es un majadero.

Para hacerte gozar con mi alegría, para que sufras tú con mi dolor, para que sientas palpitar mi vida, hice mis versos yo.

The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted to tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don't belong to English though I belong nowhere else.

The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted to tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don’t belong to English though I belong nowhere else, if not here in English. —GUSTAVO PÉREZ FIRMAT, “BILINGUAL BLUES

Man is saved if he opens himself to God and to others, even if he is not clearly aware that he is doing so. This is valid for Christians and non-Christians alike -- for all people. . . . We can no longer speak properly of a profane world. A qualitative and intensive approach replaces a quantitative and extensive one.

Sobre la falda tenia el libro abierto; en mi mejilla tocaban sus rizos negros; no veiamos las letras ninguno, creo; mas guardabamos entrambos hondo silencio. Cuanto duro? Ni aun entonces pude saberlo; solo se que no se oia mas que el aliento, que apresurado escapaba del labio seco. Solo se que nos volvimos los dos a un tiempo, y nuestros ojos se hallaron, y sono un beso. Creacion de Dante era el libro, era su Infierno. Cuando a el bajamos los ojos, yo dije, tremulo: Comprendes ya que un poema cabe en un verso?" Y ella respondio, encendida: Ya lo comprendo!" On her skirt she had an open book on my cheek her black locks of hair we didn't see the letters any of them, I think though we kept between us a deep silence How much did it last? Not even then I could know I only know that I couldn't hear anything more than her breath that fastly went out of her dry lips I only know that we both turned our sight at same time and our eyes met the other and a kiss was heard The creation of Dante was the book it was its Inferno when we both turned down the eyes to it I said, trembling: 'Do you already understand that a poem fits in a verse?'' And she answered lightened up: I understand!

Si al mecer las azules campanillas de tu balcón, crees que suspirando pasa el viento murmurador, sabe que, oculto entre las verdes hojas, suspiro yo. Si al resonar confuso a tus espaldas vago rumor, crees que por tu nombre te ha llamado lejana voz, sabe que, entre las sombras que te cercan, te llamo yo. Si se turba medroso en la alta noche tu corazón, al sentir en tus labios un aliento abrasador, sabe que, aunque invisible, al lado tuyo, respiro yo.

طالما أنَّ العِلم لن يقدرَ على كشف ِ منابع ِ الحياة .. وأنَّ البحارَ والسماءَ تنطوي على أغوار ٍ سحيقة ٍ لن ينفذَ إليها العقل.. وطالما البشريةُ دومًا تسيرُ دونَ أن تعلمَ إلى أينَ المطاف ... طالما بقى لغزٌ يستعصى على الإنسان ِ حلُّه, فسيكونُ هُناكَ دومًا شِعر. *** طالمَا يشعر الإنسانُ أن روحَهُ تُزَغْرِدُ دون أن تتحركَ الشفاه .. طالما يبكي الإنسان دونَ أن تظللَ عينيه الدموع .. طالما يمضي الفكرُ والفؤادُ في اصطراع ٍ دائم ٍ .. طالما ثارت الآمال وتوهّجت الذكريات فسيكونُ هُناكَ دومًا شِعر.

El amarillo es un color con el que me identifico en esta etapa de mi vida. En parte tiene que ver con un viaje a México que hice antes incluso de que naciera la idea de grabar este disco. Recorriendo la península de Yucatán tuve algunas visiones de color amarillo, algunos ovnis que creí ver y un ámbar que encontré con restos de fósiles. Es el color que yo le veo al amor.

Yo quisiera forjar para cada uno de vosotros una maravillosa estrofa tejida de frases exquisitas, en la que os pudiérais envolver con orgullo, como en un manto de púrpura. Yo quisiera poder cincelar la forma que ha de conteneros, como se cincela el vaso de oro que ha de guardar un preciado perfume.

The Exodus from Egypt, the home of sacred monarchy, reinforces this idea [desacralization of creation]: it is the 'desacralization' of social praxis. . . . In Egypt, work is alienated and, far from building a just society, contributes rather to increasing injustice and to widening the gap between exploiters and exploited.

It was a mission of celebration: never had two Mexican-Americans flown up in space on the same mission, and never did burritos shine so brightly.

Muchos pueden tener lo que tienes, pero ninguno puede ser lo que eres.

La soledad es el imperio de la conciencia.

I de mí.

Aquella manifestación aberrante de la virtud del pudor que es el pecado de la soberbia.

Don’t spam people with your words of wisdom.

Tú sabes y yo sé que en esta vida con genio es muy contado el que la escribe, y con oro cualquiera hace poesía.

Yo tengo fe en el porvenir

We have been more than one year without him, and just now we are starting to see things again.

True love exists only among equals, “for love effects a likeness between the lover and the object loved.”23 And this supposes an ability to approach others and respect their sensitivities.

The cowardice that keeps silent in the face of the sufferings of the poor and that offers any number of adroit justifications represents an especially serious failure of Latin American Christians.

Gustavo Tiberius speaking." “It’s so weird you do that, man,” Casey said, sounding amused. “Every time I call.” “It’s polite,” Gus said. “Just because you kids these days don’t have proper phone etiquette.” “Oh boy, there’s the Grumpy Gus I know. You miss me?” Gus was well aware the others could hear the conversation loud and clear. He was also aware he had a reputation to maintain. “Hadn’t really thought about it.” “Really.” “Yes.” “Gus.” “Casey.” “I miss you.” “I miss you too,” Gus mumbled into the phone, blushing fiercely. “Yeah? How much?” Gus was in hell. “A lot,” he said truthfully. “There have been allegations made against my person of pining and moping. False allegations, mind you, but allegations nonetheless.” “I know what you mean,” Casey said. “The guys were saying the same thing about me.” Gus smiled. “How embarrassing for you.” “Completely. You have no idea.” “They’re going to get you packed up this week?” “Ah, yeah. Sure. Something like that.” “Casey.” “Yes, Gustavo.” “You’re being cagey.” “I have no idea what you mean. Hey, that’s a nice Hawaiian shirt you’ve got on. Pink? I don’t think I’ve seen you in that color before.” Gus shrugged. “Pastor Tommy had a shitload of them. I think I could wear one every day for the rest of the year and not repeat. I think he may have had a bit of a….” Gus trailed off when his hand started shaking. Then, “How did you know what I was wearing?” There was a knock on the window to the Emporium. Gus looked up. Standing on the sidewalk was Casey. He was wearing bright green skinny jeans and a white and red shirt that proclaimed him to be a member of the 1987 Pasadena Bulldogs Women’s Softball team. He looked ridiculous. And like the greatest thing Gus had ever seen. Casey wiggled his eyebrows at Gus. “Hey, man.” “Hi,” Gus croaked. “Come over here, but stay on the phone, okay?” Gus didn’t even argue, unable to take his eyes off Casey. He hadn’t expected him for another week, but here he was on a pretty Saturday afternoon, standing outside the Emporium like it was no big deal. Gus went to the window, and Casey smiled that lazy smile. He said, “Hi.” Gus said, “Hi.” “So, I’ve spent the last two days driving back,” Casey said. “Tried to make it a surprise, you know?” “I’m very surprised,” Gus managed to say, about ten seconds away from busting through the glass just so he could hug Casey close. The smile widened. “Good. I’ve had some time to think about things, man. About a lot of things. And I came to this realization as I drove past Weed, California. Gus. It was called Weed, California. It was a sign.” Gus didn’t even try to stop the eye roll. “Oh my god.” “Right? Kismet. Because right when I entered Weed, California, I was thinking about you and it hit me. Gus, it hit me.” “What did?” Casey put his hand up against the glass. Gus did the same on his side. “Hey, Gus?” “Yeah?” “I’m going to ask you a question, okay?” Gustavo’s throat felt very dry. “Okay.” “What was the Oscar winner for Best Song in 1984?” Automatically, Gus answered, “Stevie Wonder for the movie The Woman in Red. The song was ‘I Just Called to Say I Love You.’” It was fine, of course. Because he knew answers to all those things. He didn’t know why Casey wanted to— And then he could barely breathe. Casey’s smile wobbled a little bit. “Okay?” Gus blinked the burn away. He nodded as best he could. And Casey said, “Yeah, man. I love you too.” Gus didn’t even care that he dropped his phone then. All that mattered was getting as close to Casey as humanely possible. He threw open the door to the Emporium and suddenly found himself with an armful of hipster. Casey laughed wetly into his neck and Gus just held on as hard as he could. He thought that it was possible that he might never be in a position to let go. For some reason, that didn’t bother him in the slightest.

The use of a variety of tools does not mean sacrificing depth of analysis; the point is only not to be simplistic but rather to insist on getting at the deepest causes of the situation, for this is what it means to be truly radical.

Since the Enlightenment, the political order is an order of freedom. The political structures are no longer given, previous to man's freedom, but are rather realities based on freedom, taken on and modified by man. . . . This new definition of politics carefully distinguishes between state and society. The distinction . . . allows us to differentiate between the public sphere of the state of the Church (or the combination of them) as powers from the public sphere 'in which the interests of all men as a social group are expressed.

Lord, I do not attempt to comprehend Your sublimity, because my intellect is not at all equal to such a task. But I yearn to understand some measure of Your truth, which my heart believes and loves. For I do not seek to understand in order to believe but I believe in order to understand. For I believe even this: that I shall not understand unless I believe.3

...había pocas cosas en el mundo más hermosas que una mujer escribiendo. Ocho mujeres haciéndolo era una de esas cosas.

An essential clue to the understanding of poverty in liberation theology is the distinction, made in the Medellín document "Poverty of the Church," between three meanings of the term "poverty": real poverty as an evil—that is something that God does not want; spiritual poverty, in the sense of a readiness to do God's will; and solidarity with the poor, along with protest against the conditions under which they suffer.

Here the church, like every human being, is faced with the choice that is most fundamental for its faith: to be on the side of life or on the side of death. We see very clearly that on this point no neutrality is possible. Either we serve the life of the Salvadoran people or we connive in their death. Here, too, is the historical mediation of what is most fundamental in the Christian faith: either we believe in a God of life or we serve the idols of death” (Address at Louvain, Feb. 2, 1980; in SVF, p. 373).

Negli anni appena trascorsi è stata condotta vittoriosamente una battaglia semantica contro la dittatura del "politicamente corretto", accusato di conservatorismo, ipocrisia e perbenismo. I tabù linguistici sono caduti tutti. Perfino la bestemmia è stata "sdoganata" perché qualunque parola deve essere "contestualizzata". I contesti sono infiniti. Così ogni parola è infinitamente giustificabile. Il degrado è pervasivo, e ha contagiato anche chi non l'ha inaurato e anzi, all'inizio, l'ha deplorato. Così, cisi è assuefatti. Ma il risultato non è stato una liberazione, ma un nuovo conformismo, alla rovescia. Oggi è politicamente corretto il dileggio, l'aggressione verbale, la volgarità,la scurrilità. È politicamente corretta la semplificazione, fino alla banalizzazione, dei problemi comuni. Sono politicamente corretti la rassicurazione a ogni costo, l'occultamento delle difficoltà, le promesse dell'impossibile, la blandizia dei vizi pubblici e privati proposti come virtù. Tutti atteggiamenti che sembrano d'amicizia, essendo invece insulti e offensioni. I cittadini comuni, non esperti di cose politiche, sono trattati non come persone consapevoli ma sudditi, anzi come plebe. Cosicché leposizioni sono ormai rovesciate. Proprio il linguaggio plebeo è diventato quel "politicamente corretto" dal quale dobbiamo liberarci, ritovando l'orgoglio di comunicare tra noi parlando diversamente, non conformisticamente, seriamente, dignitosamente, argomentatamente, razionalmente, adeguatamente ai fatti.