I leave you the best phrases of Pedro Páramo, a revolutionary polyphonic novel written by the Mexican Juan Rulfo, published in 1955. It is characterized by its context in magical realism and by its relevance as one of the precedents of the Latin American boom.
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Juan Rulfo, author of Pedro Páramo. Source: Wikimedia Commons - Christian Bier.
-And the joy is tiresome. So I was not surprised that it ended. -Pedro Paramo.
-I came to Comala because they told me that my father lived here, a certain Pedro Páramo. -Juan Preciado.
-Nothing can last that long, there is no memory, no matter how intense, that it does not turn off. -Omniscient narrator.
-I'm starting to pay. Better to start early, to finish early. -Pedro Paramo.
-I understand less and less. I would like to go back to where I came from. -Juan Preciado.
-We old people sleep little, almost never. Sometimes we hardly doze; but without stopping to think. -Pedro Paramo.
-You've been gone a long time, Susana. The light was the same then as it is now, not so red; but it was the same poor fireless light, wrapped in the white cloth of mist that there is now. -Pedro Paramo.
-And I opened my mouth for him to leave (my soul). And she left. I felt the trickle of blood with which it was tied to my heart fell into my hands. -Dorotea.
-Each sigh is like a sip of life that one gets rid of. -Damiana Cisneros.
-Sin is not good, and to end it, you have to be hard and ruthless. -Cure of Contla.
-But why do women always have a doubt? Do they get warnings from heaven, or what? -Pedro Paramo.
-The illusion? That costs expensive. It was hard for me to live longer than I should have. -Dorotea.
-There are towns that taste unhappy. They are known to sip a bit of old and numb air, poor and skinny like everything old. -Pedro Paramo.
-What will I do now with my lips without his mouth to fill them? What will I do with my sore lips? -Susana San Juan.
-In heaven they told me they were wrong about me. That they had given me the heart of a mother, but a womb of anybody. -Dorotea.
-There is air and sun, there are clouds. Up there a blue sky and behind it there may be songs; maybe better voices… There is hope, in short. There is hope for us, against our regret. -Eduviges Dyada.
-I here, next to the door watching the sunrise and watching when you were leaving, following the path of heaven; where the sky began to open in lights, moving away, increasingly faded among the shadows of the earth. -Pedro Paramo.
-Don't ask him for anything: demand what is ours. What he was forgotten to give me and never gave me… The oblivion in which he had us, mijo, get paid dearly. -Dolores Preciado.
-Your mother was so pretty, so, let's say, so tender, that it was nice to love her. -Eduviges Dyada.
-Go up or down as you go or come. For those who go, go up; for the one who comes, come down. -Juan Preciado.
-There, where the air changes the color of things; where life is ventilated as if it were a murmur; as if it were a pure murmur of life. -Juan Preciado.
-I felt the sky opening up. I had the courage to run to you. To surround you with joy. To cry. And I cried, Susana, when I knew that you would finally return. -Pedro Paramo.
-The heat made me wake up at the stroke of midnight. And sweat. The woman's body made of earth, wrapped in crusts of earth, was falling apart as if it were melting in a puddle of mud. -Juan Preciado.
-I remembered what my mother had told me: «You will hear me better there. I will be closer to you. You will find the voice of my memories closer than that of my death, if death ever had a voice. -Juan Preciado.
-No one came to see her. That was better. Death is not distributed as if it were good. Nobody is looking for sadness. -Susana San Juan.
-That is on the embers of the earth, in the very mouth of hell. With telling him that many of those who die there when they reach hell return for their blanket. -Abundio Martínez.
-This is my death. As long as it's not a new night. -Pedro Paramo.
-This world that squeezes you from all sides, that is emptying fists of our dust here and there, breaking us into pieces as if it were sprinkling the earth with our blood. -Bartolomé San Juan.
-The day you left, I understood that I would never see you again. You were dyed red by the afternoon sun, by the bloody twilight of the sky; You smiled You left behind a town that you told me many times: “I want it for you; but I hate him for everything else. " -Eduviges Dyada.
-Dawn, morning, noon, and night, always the same: but with the difference of the air. Where the air changes the color of things: where life is ventilated as if it were a murmur; as if it were a pure murmur of life. -Juan Preciado.
-In February, when the mornings were full of wind, sparrows and blue light. I remember. -Susana San Juan.
-I am a poor man willing to humble himself. As long as you feel the urge to do so. -Father Renteria.
-I am also the son of Pedro Páramo. -Abundio Martínez.
-We live in a land where everything occurs, thanks to providence, but everything occurs with acidity. We are condemned to that. -Cure of Contla.
-I watched the drops illuminated by lightning fall, every time I breathed I sighed, and every time I thought, I thought of you, Susana. -Pedro Paramo.
-Nobody of us who are still living is in God's grace. No one will be able to raise their eyes to heaven without feeling dirty with shame. -Sister of Donis.
-I was thinking of you, Susana. When we flew kites in the air season. The air made us laugh; met the gaze of our eyes,. Your lips were wet as if the dew had kissed them. -Pedro Paramo.
-The whispers killed me. -Juan Preciado.
-I like you better at night, when we are both on the same pillow, under the sheets, in the dark. -Pedro Paramo.
-It had been so many years since I raised my face that I forgot about heaven. -Dorotea.
-You lawyers have that advantage; they can take their heritage with them everywhere as long as they don't break their noses. -Pedro Paramo.
-You must come tired and sleep is a very good mattress for fatigue. -Eduviges Dyada.
-And what I want from him is his body. Naked and hot with love; boiling with desires; squeezing the trembling of my breasts and my arms. -Susana San Juan.
-That night the dreams happened again. Why that intense remembering of so many things? Why not just death and not that sweet music from the past? -Omniscient narrator.
-I used the darkness and something else that she didn't know: and I also liked Pedro Páramo. I slept with him, with pleasure, with desire. -Eduviges Dyada.