Lezama Lima Quotes

Heidegger sostiene que el hombre es un ser para la muerte; todo poeta, sin embargo, crea la resurrección, entona ante la muerte un hurra victorioso. Y si alguno piensa que exagero, quedará preso de los desastres, del demonio y de los círculos infernales.

Procuremos inventar pasiones nuevas o reproducir las viejas con pareja intensidad.

Ángel de la jiribilla, ruega por nosotros. Y sonríe. Obliga a que suceda. Enseña una de tus alas, lee: Realízate, cúmplete, sé anterior a la muerte. Repite: Lo imposible al actuar sobre lo posible, engendra un posible en la infinidad. Ya la imagen ha creado una causalidad, es el alba de la era poética entre nosotros. Ahora ya sabemos que la única certeza se engendra en lo que nos rebasa.

Sólo lo difícil es estimulante; sólo la resistencia que nos reta, es capaz de enarcar, suscitar y mantener nuestra potencia de conocimiento

The three grand old men of Cuban literature are Alejo Carpentier (his masterpiece is The Lost Steps); José Lezama Lima (whose autobiographical novel Paradiso infuriated Castro); and Guillermo Cabrera Infante (the setting of his novel Three Trapped Tigers—pre-Castro Havana—reminded me of Oscar Hijuelos’s A Simple Habana Melody From When the World Was Good).

la grandeza del hombre consiste en que puede asimilar lo que le es desconocido. Asimilar, en la profundidad, es dar respuesta.

tenía ya esa despreocupación, esa indescifrable indiferencia de los que se van a morir algunos meses después.

El gran puente, el asunto de mi cabeza y los redobles que se van acercando a mi morada, después no sé lo que pasó, pero ahora es medianoche, y estoy atravesando lo que mi corazón siente como un gran puente.

Like Italian or Portuguese or Catalan, Spanish is a wordy language, bountiful and flamboyant, with a formidable emotional range. But for these same reasons, it is conceptually inexact. The work of our greatest prose writers, beginning with Cervantes, is like a splendid display of fireworks in which every idea marches past, preceded and surrounded by a sumptuous court of servants, suitors, and pages, whose function is purely decorative. In our prose, color, temperature, and music are as important as ideas and, in some cases-Lezama Lima or Valle Inclan, for example-more so. There is nothing objectionable about these typically Spanish rhetorical excesses. They express the profound nature of a people, a way of being in which the emotional and the concrete prevail over the intellectual and the abstract. This is why Valle Inclan, Alfonso Reyes, Alejo Carpentier, and Camilo Jose Cela, to cite four magnificent prose writers, are so verbose in their writing. This does not make their prose either less skillful or more superficial than that of Valery or T.S. Eliot. They are simply quite different, just as Latin Americans are different from the English and the French. To us, ideas are formulated and captured more effectively when fleshed out with emotion and sensation or in some way incorporated into concrete reality, into life-far more than they are in logical discourse. That perhaps is why we have such a rich literature and such a dearth of philosophers.

December 9: The Mexican literary mafia has nothing on the Mexican bookseller mafia. Bookstores visited: the Librería del Sótano, in a basement on Avenida Juárez where the clerks (numerous and neatly uniformed) kept me under strict surveillance and from which I managed to leave with volumes by Roque Dalton, Lezama Lima, and Enrique Lihn. The Librería Mexicana, staffed by three samurais, on Calle Aranda, near the Plaza de San Juan, where I stole a book by Othón, a book by Amado Nervo (wonderful!), and a chapbook by Efraín Huerta. The Librería Pacífico, at Bolívar and 16 de Septiembre, where I stole an anthology of American poets translated by Alberto Girri and a book by Ernesto Cardenal. And in the evening, after reading, writing, and a little fucking: the Viejo Horacio, on Correo Mayor, staffed by twins, from which I left with Gamboa's Santa, a novel to give to Rosario; an anthology of poems by Kenneth Fearing, translated and with a prologue by someone called Doctor Julio Antonio Vila, in which Doctor Vila talks in a vague, question mark-filled way about a trip that Fearing took to Mexico in the 1950s, "an ominous and fruitful trip," writes Doctor Vila; and a book on Buddhism written by the Televisa adventurer Alberto Montes. Instead of the book by Montes I would have preferred the autobiography of the ex-featherweight world champion Adalberto Redondo, but one of the inconveniences of stealing books - especially for a novice like myself - is that sometimes you have to take what you can get.

Nur das Schwierige ist anregend, nur der Widerstand der uns herausfordert, kann unser Erkenntnisvermögen geschmeidig krümmen, es wecken und in Gang halten

Îl vor considera o victimă a culturii înalte, așa cum există victime ale romanelor polițiste, care preferă să intre în propriile case pe fereastră.