Antonio Machado

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susanjagannath: "Walker there is no path, the path is made by walking" Antonio Machado.

hopelinksdirect: Man would be "otherwise." That's the essence of the specifically human. ~Antonio Machado

celtic_bar: Celtic v CFR Cluj live at Lewis’s benalmadena costa on Tuesday 13th August KO 20:45 Avda Antonio machado 35 Centro commercial ole local 18 29630 (next to triton hotel)

zarandillo: Castile landscape, Spain, 1967. Campos de Castilla was the title of a book of poems by Spanish poet Antonio Machado. Photograph: Baldomero Pestana/Instituto Cervantes

PottersinnSteve: Beyond living and dreaming There is something more important: Waking up. -Antonio Machado

KathyScheiern: Don't try to rush things: for the cup to run over, it must first be filled. - Antonio Machado

eraserheadass: Gonna just turn this into a poetry account. Want to post some Dhasal and some Antonio Machado.

rmartinledo: “The eye you see is not an eye because you see it; it is because it sees you.” Antonio Machado

APeriodmusic: All I know is Jose Antonio Machado is special and he really loves people and helping those people feel good. I have grown over the years to admire him as a man from the kid I knew. He is a self made man from...

earthheart9: ‘Last night I dreamed - blessed illusion - that I had a beehive here in my heart and that the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.’ Antonio Machado Translated by Robert Bly…

earthheart9: ‘Last night I dreamed - blessed illusion - that I had a beehive here in my heart and that the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.’ Antonio Machado Translated by Robert Bly…

manoloalvarez: "“Under all that we think, lives all we believe, like the ultimate veil of our spirits.” —ANTONIO MACHADO"

the_ink_writer: "Traveler there is no path. Paths are made by walking." ~ Antonio Machado

DieHoren: He was seen walking among rifles, down the long street, leaving for the cold of the countryside with the morning stars still bright overhead. From Antonio Machado's poem on the murder of Federico Garcia Lorca on August 19, 1936

Alignomy: “Wanderer, there is no path; the path is made by walking.” --Antonio Machado

Rachelschmid: “...In the golden poplars / far off, the shadow of love is waiting for you.” —Antonio Machado, from “In the Fields” (tr. by Robert Bly)

_ftdoblas: “Gafas que me estafas” Antonio Machado wassd found dead

Jacob_Medina32: Antonio Brown is the Manny Machado of the NFL

TeryleWrites: Traveler there is no path. Paths are made by walking. - Antonio Machado

hagerenesh: Last night, as I was sleeping, 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. Antonio Machado

kkaction: The Spanish poet Antonio Machado says, “Traveler, there is no road; the road is made as you go.” This is what “search” has meant: a journey of exploration and self-creation, not an instant swipe to already composed answers.

PrasadVSSN: The deepest words of the wise man teach us the same as the whistle of the wind when it blows or the sound of the water when it is flowing. - Antonio Machado

monendrakapur: Traveler there is no path. Paths are made by walking. - Antonio Machado -

MuckZuckerburg: The greater the success one enjoys, the more Antonio Machado. - Popular

NewtownLiterary: "What the poet is searching for is not the fundamental I but the deep you." — Antonio Machado

herebeemonsters: Last night as I was sleeping, 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. - Antonio Machado

wissportsfan: Traveler there is no path. Paths are made by walking. - Antonio Machado -

theabhayk: “Traveler there is no path. Paths are made by walking.” - Antonio Machado

FBanishoeib: Traveler there is no path. Paths are made by walking. - Antonio Machado -

elisker: The Urban Mermaid: Antonio Machado

Poem of the day

Christina Rossetti Poem
Last Night
 by Christina Rossetti

Where were you last night? I watched at the gate;
I went down early, I stayed down late.
Were you snug at home, I should like to know,
Or were you in the coppice wheedling Kate?

She's a fine girl, with a fine clear skin;
Easy to woo, perhaps not hard to win.
Speak up like a man and tell me the truth:
...

Read complete poem

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