Rosario Castellanos Quotes

Words rolled forth from her lips, as they should from every human lip, red with shame. And as Rominka pulled the crust off her sins, she cried. Because it hurts to be left naked.

No es posible sino soñar, morir,/soñar que no morimos/y, a veces, un instante, despertar.

You may not be interested in hearing it, but I want to talk about it. To talk about them, rather: the forty-five years (exactly the number I have lived) as of today. I don't want to hide anything or misrepresent the date, like one covers up a gray hair or a wrinkle. No, each day has been worth what it has cost, and much more.

I do not speak through the mouth of my wounds.

Nadie está solo. Nadie.

I tried what all children try in their desire to be noticed: tantrums and every sort of illness I could dream up. But since these were not successful, I found myself obliged to seek other means. And so it was that I came to write and publish my first verses. At ten years of age I was already perfectly installed as a poetess.

Veneration of our parents is seen in this light, not as an obligation difficult to fulfill, but rather as an easy inclination of our affection. We gratefully remember what we owe them: our existence, thanks to the love they expressed to one another, the care with which they watched our growth; and the gentleness and skill with which they guided us toward independence, responsibility, and the ability to make wise choices.

El otro. Con el otro/la humanidad, el diálogo, la poesía, comienzan.

How the earth sings as it spins!/Sings the lightness of its flight,/its freedom, its grace, its joy.

Hablo no por la boca de mis heridas.

Here I am now, at the end, and I still/don't know how I'll face death.

ternura, la palabra pequeña, familiar/que cabía en mi boca.

¡Cómo canta la tierra cuando gira!/Canta la ligereza de su vuelo,/su libertad, su gracia, su alegría.

¿Qué se hace a la hora de morir? ¿Se vuelve/la cara a la pared?/¿Se agarra por los hombros al que está cerca y oye?/¿Se echa uno a correr, como el que tiene/las ropas incendiadas, para alcanzar el fin?

His own sense of security was so fragile that the face of a chamula, seen through a pane of glass, was enough to shatter it to pieces.