Antonio Gala Velasco (1930) is a famous Spanish writer and playwright.
Early reader and writer, he studied the Law degree at the University of Seville from an early age of 15 years and, as a free student, those of Philosophy and Letters and Political and Economic Sciences at the University of Madrid, obtaining degrees in all of them.
At the end of his university studies, he began the preparation of oppositions to the State Bar, leaving him in a gesture that he remembers as rebellious in the face of his father's pressures, to later enter the cartujos. But the rigid discipline was not made for him, as he tells in his autobiography, Now I will talk about me (2000), and was expelled from the order.
He then moved to Portugal, where he led a bohemian life, teaching Philosophy and Art History and received a Adonáis Award of poetry for his work Intimate enemy, beginning a successful theatrical and journalistic career, which enabled him since 1963 to live only from writing.
At the beginning of the seventies, a serious illness took him to the brink of death and during the convalescence he began to use his most characteristic complement: the cane, which has already gathered a varied and interesting collection.
Already becoming a highly popular character in Spanish literature, he began writing novels in the 1990s, beginning with The crimson manuscript, he won Planet Award.
Currently his collaboration in the press is reduced to short opinion articles, published under the name of embrasures in the newspaper El Mundo. The pace of creation and publication of other works of his has recently declined, and on several occasions he has implied that The pedestal of the statues It may be his last novel.
His work also highlights the facet of patrons: he created the Antonio Gala Foundation for Young Creators, dedicated to support and grant the work of young artists.
Famous quotes by Antonio Gala
It is not about adding years to life, but about giving life to the years.
Happiness is to realize that nothing is too important.
In a rose fit all springs.
Love is the poetry of the senses. But there are very bad poems ...
I am not pessimistic. I am a well-informed optimist.
Our society has reached a time when it no longer worships the golden calf, but the gold of the calf.
To love is also to know how to leave.
Power happens to him like walnut, he doesn't let anything grow under his shadow.
On this beach I loved you so much that a breath for both of us was enough.
When you collaborate with a madman or comment on his hobbies, he falls into madness.
You have taken your smell of forest and the taste of life.
Perhaps time is the worst form of heartbreak.
Well, that you are to invulnerable oblivion, vulnerate me now, love, undo my chest and nest in it, demon and my angel.
The intellectual must be an index finger that points and a clinical eye that thinks.
He who does not love is always right: it is the only thing he has.
Any progress that is not human is not progress.
Without you, neither the bread nor the wine, nor the life, nor the hunger, nor the juicy color of the morning make any sense nor do they serve anything.
Maybe love is simply that: the gesture of approaching and forgetting. Each one remains himself, but there are two bodies that merge.
You escaped me, of glass and aroma, through the air, which entered and left, owner of you inside. And I was outside, in the usual lintel, prisoner of the outer cell.
Yes, I think in the abstract, that is something that literally takes my sleep away, despite the pills I take.
Religion should not exist. It should be forbidden by God, but since it does not exist ...
The dictatorship has armored because it has to overcome. Democracy is presented naked because it has to convince.
The pain is stronger among the strongest. Like cancer.
Home is, where somebody waits for you.
No one can say that a warm and happy nest will give of itself great people.
The maladjustment of the imperfect is what improves man.
I have always been surrounded by women, I am very attracted to the feminine soul.
Shut up, lovers, and occupy the lip with the kiss. Do not pronounce vain words while searching for your heart in another chest, panting and poor like yours, already at the edge of the dawn.
I have a great capacity for admiration, surprise and curiosity, which are the three things that define childhood the most.
Live not according to the received ideals, but with your aspirations, with your intuition more vehemently.
You have taken your smell of forest and the taste of life.
Hold me on your wings so that another air does not touch me but your breath, from which I live and die.
Don't pretend anymore, don't hide the excessive hunger of me that burns in your eyes ...
Victory hurts, and docilely piggyback your destiny of love you lead, delicate and bloody life of mine.
Worldwide nothing is recognized except wars, hatreds ... not beauty.
The truth is that this country is ruled by a collection of fools.
It was winter; You arrived and it was summer. When the real summer comes, what will become of us?
I have been vulnerable. I have been easy to hurt. I have been easy, and fragile. I have felt very deep wounds that for others would have gone unnoticed.
Your trade is daily and decisive: while the sun shines, you will be ardent; While life lasts, you'll be alive.
When love begins, there is a time when God is surprised to have hatched something so beautiful.
I'd like to kick the theater to wake up.
Who could bear, like a bridle, the unparalleled rainbow of your gaze from your light to my black fall.
Love is a friendship with erotic moments.
That no judge declares my innocence, because, in this long-term process, I will only seek the life sentence of your hug.
This society gives us facilities to make love, but not to fall in love.
And suddenly our mouth looks for a mouth, and some hands press our hands and there is a loving voice that tells us: "Wake up. I'm here. Get up." And we live
Even the perfect love when it exists lasts only a moment.
Honest politicians are removed from the environment when suspicion falls on them.
Everything a woman really wants: a dog, a man, God, anything; He loves him like a son.
Someone has said that the moon is so pale because it makes life exclusively at night.
How to eat without you, without the pious custom of your wings that refresh the air and renew the light?
People feel a strange predilection for me. Because he perceives in me disability, loneliness, and then he loves me in a special way, in a protective way.