Antonio Machado Quotes
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I thought my fire was out, and stirred the ashes…. I burnt my fingers.
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What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?
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Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it.
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Beyond living and dreaming there is something more important: waking up.
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Under all that we think, lives all we believe, like the ultimate veil of our spirits.
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Mankind owns four things that are no good at sea: rudder, anchor, oars and the fear of going down.
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Wayfarer, the only way is your footsteps, there is no other. Wayfarer, there is no way, you make the way as you go. As you go, you make the way and stopping to look behind, you see the path that your feet will never travel again. Wayfarer, there is no way- Only foam trails to the sea.
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Pathmaker, there is no path; You make the path by walking, By walking you make the Path.
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The unpublished manuscript is like an uncon-fessed sin that festers in the soul, corrupting and contaminating it.
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Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt - marvellous error! - That it was God I had here inside my heart.
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At the very smallest wheel of our reasoning it is possible for a handful of questions to break the bank of our answers.
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Has my heart gone to sleep? Have the beehives of my dreams stopped working, the waterwheel of the mind run dry, scoops turning empty, only shadow inside? No, my heart is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake. Not asleep, not dreaming— its eyes are opened wide watching distant signals, listening on the rim of vast silence.
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The absence of vices adds so little to the sum of one's virtues.
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It's a no-news day so we've been tied to the behavior of Latin American markets and U.S. indexes. Volume's really low.
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I dreamt -- marvellous error! -- that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.
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All uncertainty is fruitfull ... so long as it is accompanied by the wish to understand.
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These next days are crucial to see who is participating in the auctions. Everyone is waiting.
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Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path. . .
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The great philosophers are poets who believe in the reality of their poems.
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Caminante, son tus huellasel camino, y nada más;caminante, no hay camino,se hace camino al andar.Al andar se hace camino,y al volver la vista atrásse ve la senda que nuncase ha de volver a pisar.Caminante, no hay camino,sino estelas en la mar.
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It is good knowing that glasses are to drink from; the bad thing is not to know what thirst is for.
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The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. "In return for the odor of my jasmine, I'd like all the odor of your roses." "I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead." "Well then, I'll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain." the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself: "What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?
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Only a fool thinks price and value are the same.
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No one can shed light on vices he does not have or afflictions he has ever experienced.