Spanish quotes carry a crisp, sung rhythm, refranes that bite and bless in the same breath. They turn everyday bread, wine, and weather into measures of fate, mixing picaresque wit with a grave sense of honor. There is duende’s dark shimmer, Teresa’s lucid mysticism, Cervantine mischief, and Lorca’s ache for moon and blood. Love and pride wrestle with time, hunger, and distance; patience answers passion; irony keeps company with tenderness. The language favors images that travel light yet linger, like sobremesa talk under olive trees and midnight balconies.
