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To Narrate Is To Give Oneself: It Seems Obvious That Literature, As An Effort To Communicate Fully, Will Continue To Be Blocked So Long As Misery And Illiteracy Exist, And So Long As The Possessors Of Power Continue To Carry On With Impunity Their Policy Of Collective Imbecilization Through The Mass Media.

-Eduardo Galeano

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To Narrate Is To

Eduardo Galeano

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To Narrate Is To Give Oneself: It Seems Obvious That Literature, As An Effort To Communicate Fully, Will Continue To Be Blocked So Long As Misery And Illiteracy Exist, And So Long As The Possessors Of Power Continue To Carry On With Impunity Their Policy Of Collective Imbecilization Through The Mass Media.

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We Are What We Do, Especially What We Do To Change What We Are.

I Go About The World, Hand Outstretched, And In The Stadiums I Plead: 'a Pretty Move, For The Love Of God.' And When Good Soccer Happens, I Give Thanks For The Miracle And I Don't Give A Damn Which Team Or Country Performs It.

There Are Those Who Believe Destiny Rests At The Feet Of The Gods, But The Truth Is That It Confronts The Conscious Of Man With A Burning Challenge.

I Don't Believe In Charity. I Believe In Solidarity. Charity Is So Vertical. It Goes From The Top To The Bottom. Solidarity Is Horizontal. It Respects The Other Person. I Have A Lot To Learn From Other People.

Most Of Wars Or Military Coups Or Invasions Are Done In The Name Of Democracy Against Democracy.

...because Of Forced Globalization, There's A Clear Trend These Days Towards Uniformity. This Trend Comes Largely From The Ever-greater Concentration Of Power In The Hands Of Large Media Groups.

The Ball Laughs, Radiant, In The Air. He Brings Her Down, Puts Her To Sleep, Showers Her With Compliments, Dances With Her, And Seeing Such Things Never Before Seen His Admirers Pity Their Unborn Grandchildren Who Will Never See Them.

If The Past Has Nothing To Say To The Present, History May Go On Sleeping Undisturbed In The Closet Where The System Keeps Its Old Disguises.

Utopia Lies At The Horizon. When I Draw Nearer By Two Steps, It Retreats Two Steps. If I Proceed Ten Steps Forward, It Swiftly Slips Ten Steps Ahead. No Matter How Far I Go, I Can Never Reach It. What, Then, Is The Purpose Of Utopia? It Is To Cause Us To Advance.

Soccer, Metaphor For War, At Times Turns Into Real War.

The Ways Of Change Are Dictated By The Circumstances Of Each Country, Each Place And Each Time. I Don't Think That Arrogant Intellectuals Should Be Dictating To The People Which Way They Should Be Heading. I Think We Should Be Listening To The People, See In Which Directions Things Are Developing. People Are Walking Where They Can, Not Where They Want To. But They Are Walking!

The Big Bankers Of The World, Who Practise The Terrorism Of Money, Are More Powerful Than Kings And Field Marshals, Even More Than The Pope Of Rome Himself. They Never Dirty Their Hands. They Kill No-one: They Limit Themselves To Applauding The Show.

In 1492, The Natives Discovered They Were Indians, Discovered They Lived In America, Discovered They Were Naked, Discovered That The Sin Existed, Discovered They Owed Allegiance To A King And Kingdom From Another World And A God From Another Sky, And That This God Had Invented The Guilty And The Dress, And Had Sent To Be Burnt Alive Who Worships The Sun The Moon The Earth And The Rain That Wets It.

Reality Is Very, Very Contradictory, And So I Try To Write Just Perfecting What I See, What I Read, What I Feel, In A Feel-thinking Way. Not Only Giving Ideas, Or Receiving Ideas, Or Trying To Explain Something, But Mainly Feel-thinking, A Feel-thinking Language Able To Tie The Heart And The Mind, Which Have Been Divorced.

If The World Is Upside Down The Way It Is Now, Wouldn't We Have To Turn It Over To Get It To Stand Up Straight?

I Like Messi Because He Doesn't Think He Is Messi.

The Population Becomes The Internal Enemy. Any Sign Of Life, Of Protest, Or Even Mere Doubt, Is A Dangerous Challenge From The Standpoint Of Military Doctrine And National Security. So Complicated Mechanisms Of Prevention Adn Punishment Have Been Developed ... To Operate Effectively, The Repression Must Appear Arbitrary. Apart From Breathing, Any Human Activity Can Constitute A Crime ... State Terrorism Aims To Paralyze The Population With Fear.

So Many Stories, And To Choose Which Ones To Tell And How To Tell Them. The Words, They Will Tap Me On The Shoulder And They Will Speak To Me: Tell Me! Tell Me! The Stories Choose Me.

We Are All Mortal Until The First Kiss And The Second Glass Of Wine.

This Work Is A Torture On The Rump But A Joy To The Heart.

If The Grape Is Made Of Wine, Then Perhaps We Are The Words That Tell Who We Are

I Was A Terrible History Student. They Taught Me History As If It Were A Visit To A Wax Museum Or To The Land Of The Dead. I Was Over Twenty Before I Discovered That The Past Was Neither Quiet Nor Mute.

Unlike Solidarity, Which Is Horizontal And Takes Place Between Equals, Charity Is Top-down, Humiliating Those Who Receive It And Never Challenging The Implicit Power Relations.

I Remember That - You Know, I Didnt Receive A Formal Education. I Was Educated In The Montevideo Cafe, In The Cafes Of Montevideo. There, I Received My First Lessons In The Art Of Telling Stories, Storytelling.

The Poet, Distracted By Politics, Asks Of Poetry That It Make Itself Useful Like Metal Or Flour, That It Get Ready To Stain Its Face With Coal Dust And Fight Body To Body.

The More Freedom Is Extended To Business, The More Prisons Have To Be Built For Those Who Suffer From That Business.

Reality Is A Magic Lady, Sometimes Very Mysterious. To Me She Is Very Passionate. She Is Real Not Only When She Is Awake, Walking Down The Streets, But Also At Night When She Is Dreaming Or When She Is Having Nightmares. When I Am Writing, I Am Always Paying Tribute To Her - To That Lady Called Reality.

And One Fine Day The Goddess Of The Wind Kisses The Foot Of Man, That Mistreated, Scorned Foot, And From That Kiss The Soccer Idol Is Born. He Is Born In A Straw Crib In A Tin-roofed Shack And He Enters The World Clinging To A Ball.

The Fiesta Of Soccer, A Feast For The Legs That Play And The Eyes That Watch, Is Much More Than A Big Business Run By Overlords From Switzerland. The Most Popular Sport In The World Wants To Serve The People Who Embrace It.

The Purpose Of Torture Is Not Getting Information. It's Spreading Fear.

Nothing Can Be Defined Or Derided On The Basis Of Its Origin. The Important Thing Is What Is Done With It And How Far A Community Identifies With Something That Symbolizes Its Favourite Way Of Dreaming, Living, Dancing, Playing Or Loving. This Is The Positive Side Of The World: A Constant Intermingling That Produces New Responses To New Challenges. But Because Of Forced Globalization, There's A Clear Trend These Days Towards Uniformity. This Trend Comes Largely From The Ever-greater Concentration Of Power In The Hands Of Large Media Groups.

The World Is Becoming An Immense Military Base, And That Base Is Becoming A Mental Hospital The Size Of The World. Inside The Nuthouse, Which Ones Are Crazy?

Celebration Of The Human Voice--- When It Is Genuine, When It Is Born Of The Need To Speak, No One Can Stop The Human Voice. When Denied A Mouth, It Speaks With The Hands Or The Eyes, Or The Pores, Or Anything At All. Because Every Single One Of Us Has Something To Say To The Others, Something That Deserves To Be Celebrated Or Forgiven By Others.

Scientists Say That Human Beings Are Made Of Atoms, But A Little Bird Told Me That We Are Also Made Of Stories

It Is Highly Improbable That The Bureaucrat Will Put His Life On The Line. It Is Absolutely Impossible That He'll Put His Job On The Line.

When A Book Is Alive, Really Alive, You Feel It. You Put It To Your Ear Here, And You Feel It Breathe, Sometimes Laugh, Sometimes Cry, Just Like A Person, A Little Person.

The World Is A Heap Of People, A Sea Of Tiny Flames.

I'm Not Asking You To Describe The Rain Falling The Night The Archangel Arrived; I'm Demanding That You Get Me Wet. Make Up Your Mind, Mr. Writer, And For Once In Your Life Be The Flower That Smells Rather Than The Chronicler Of The Aroma. There's Not Much Pleasure In Writing What You Live. The Challenge Is To Live What You Write.

The Human Rainbow Had Been Mutilated By Machismo, Racism, Militarism And A Lot Of Other Isms, Who Have Been Terribly Killing Our Greatness, Our Possible Greatness, Our Possible Beauty.

History Never Really Says Goodbye. History Says, See You Later.

I Have Never Killed Anybody, It Is True, But It Is Because I Lacked The Courage Or The Time, Not Because I Lacked The Desire

Writing Is A Marvelous Adventure And Very Labor-intensive: Those Words Run Away And Try To Escape. They Are Very Difficult To Capture.

Schools Teach Ignorance.

In The Struggle Of Good Against Evil, It's Always The People Who Get Killed.

In This World Which Is Losing Faith In So Called Representative Democracy, There Are New Developments In Participatory Democracy. These Are Very Interesting Developments, Reflecting The Revitalization Of Community Power With A More And More Active Presence Of Minorities In Political Life, Including The Presence Of Women Who Are Of Course By No Means A Minority.

The World Is Organised By The War Economy And The War Culture.

Because Every Single One Of Us Has Something To Say To The Others, Something That Deserves To Be Celebrated Or Forgiven By Others

We Latins Are Known For Jabbering On.

I Would Recognise Myself In Each Of His Translations And He Would Feel Betrayed And Annoyed Whenever I Didn't Write Something The Way He Would Have. A Part Of Me Died With Him, A Part Of Him Lives With Me.

I Am Not A Historian. I Am A Writer Obsessed With Remembering, With Remembering The Past

I Am Quite Prehistoric, Absolutely Prehistoric.

Any Open Net Was An Unforgivable Crime Meriting Immediate Punishment, And [di Stefano] Carried Out The Sentence By Stabbing At It Like A Mischievous Elf.

The Division Of Labor Among Nations Is That Some Specialize In Winning And Others In Losing.

Division Of Labor

I Don't Believe In Charity. I Believe In Solidarity.

Our Defeat Was Always Implicit In The Victory Of Others; Our Wealth Has Always Generated Our Poverty By Nourishing The Prosperity Of Others - The Empires And Their Native Overseers. In The Colonial And Neocolonial Alchemy, Gold Changes Into Scrap Metal And Food Into Poison.

The Church Says: The Body Is A Sin. Science Says: The Body Is A Machine. Advertising Says: The Body Is A Business. The Body Says: I Am A Fiesta.

To Narrate Is To Give Oneself: It Seems Obvious That Literature, As An Effort To Communicate Fully, Will Continue To Be Blocked So Long As Misery And Illiteracy Exist, And So Long As The Possessors Of Power Continue To Carry On With Impunity Their Policy Of Collective Imbecilization Through The Mass Media.

I Am Astonished Each Time I Come To The U.s. By The Ignorance Of A High Percentage Of The Population, Which Knows Almost Nothing About Latin America Or About The World. It's Quite Blind And Deaf To Anything That May Happen Outside The Frontiers Of The U.s.

Soccer Is A Feast For The Eyes That Watch It And A Joy For The Body That Plays It

Poets And Beggars, Musicians And Prophets, Warriors And Scoundrels, All Creatures Of That Unbridled Reality, We Have Had To Ask But Little Of Our Imagination, For Our Crucial Problem Has Been A Lack Of Conventional Means To Render Our Lives Believable. This, My Friends, Is The Crux Of Our Solitude.

A Pretty Move, For The Love Of God.

Richness In The World Is A Result Of Other People's Poverty. We Should Begin To Shorten The Abyss Between Haves And Have-nots.

I Am Not Particularly Interested In Saving Time; I Prefer To Enjoy It.

From The Point Of View Of The Economy, The Sale Of Weapons Is Indistinguishable From The Sale Of Food. When A Building Collapses Or A Plane Crashes, It?s Rather Inconvenient From The Point Of View Of Those Inside, But It?s Altogether Convenient For The Growth Of The Gross National Product, Which Sometimes Ought To Be Called The "gross Criminal Product."

We Live In A World That Treats The Dead Better Than The Living. We, The Living Are Askers Of Questions And Givers Of Answers, And We Have Other Grave Defects Unpardonable By A System That Believes Death, Like Money, Improves People.

The Tree Of Life Knows That, Whatever Happens, The Warm Music Spinning Around It Will Never Stop. However Much Death May Come, However Much Blood May Flow, The Music Will Dance Men And Women As Long As The Air Breaths Them And The Land Plows And Loves Them.

Spinning Around

Where Do People Earn The Per Capita Income? More Than One Poor Starving Soul Would Like To Know. In Our Countries, Numbers Live Better Than People. How Many People Prosper In Times Of Prosperity? How Many People Find Their Lives Developed By Development?

I'm A Writer Obsessed With Remembering, With Remembering The Past Of America And Above All That Of Latin America, Intimate Land Condemned To Amnesia.

From The Weak Nations' Point Of View, It Is Better If There Are Many Powerful Countries Then If There Are Just A Few. The More Concentrated Is Power, The Fewer Opportunities There Are To Move. Space For Change, Space For Freedom To Implement Change Is Then Very Narrow; Very Small.

Utopia Is On The Horizon. I Move Two Steps Closer; It Moves Two Steps Further Away. I Walk Another Ten Steps And The Horizon Runs Ten Steps Further Away. As Much As I May Walk, I'll Never Reach It. So What's The Point Of Utopia? The Point Is This: To Keep Walking.

Latin America Is Part Of The World Which Was For Many Years Condemned To The System Of Power Where Intimidation Had More Strength Than The Vote.

Always In All My Books I'm Trying To Reveal Or Help To Reveal The Hidden Greatness Of The Small, Of The Little, Of The Unknown - And The Pettiness Of The Big.

Each Person Shines With His Or Her Own Light. No Two Flames Are Alike. There Are Big Flames And Little Flames, Flames Of Every Color. Some People’s Flames Are So Still They Don’t Even Flicker In The Wind, While Others Have Wild Flames That Fill The Air With Sparks. Some Foolish Flames Neither Burn Nor Shed Light, But Others Blaze With Life So Fiercely That You Can’t Look At Them Without Blinking, And If You Approach You Shine In The Fire.

In This World Of Ours, A World Of Powerful Centers And Subjugated Outposts, There Is No Wealth That Must Not Be Held In Some Suspicion.

The Wages Haiti Requires By Law Belong In The Department Of Science Fiction: Actual Wages On Coffee Plantations Vary From $.07 To $.15 A Day

Each Time A New War Is Disclosed In The Name Of The Fight Of The Good Against Evil, Those Who Are Killed Are All Poor. It's Always The Same Story Repeating Once And Again And Again.

His Legs Have A Mind Of Their Own, His Foot Shoots By Itself... Roberto Baggio Is A Big Horsetail That Flicks Away Opponents As He Flows Forward In An Elegant Wave.

There Are Some Writers Who Feel They Are Elected By God. I Am Not. I Am Elected By The Devil - This Is Clear.

Almost All Wars, Perhaps All, Are Trade Wars Connected With Some Material Interest. They Are Always Disguised As Sacred Wars, Made In The Name Of God, Or Civilization Or Progress. But All Of Them, Or Almost All Of The Wars, Have Been Trade Wars.

I'm Attracted To Soccer's Capacity For Beauty. When Well Played, The Game Is A Dance With A Ball.

Memory. My Poison, My Food.

No History Is Mute. No Matter How Much They Own It, Break It, And Lie About It, Human History Refuses To Shut Its Mouth. Despite Deafness And Ignorance, The Time That Was Continues To Tick Inside The Time That Is.

In His Life, A Man Can Change Wives, Political Parties Or Religions But He Cannot Change His Favourite Soccer Team.

Recordar: To Remember; From The Latin Records, To Pass Back Through The Heart

The Latin American Cause Is About All A Social Cause: The Rebirth Of Latin America Must Start With The Overthrow Of Its Masters, Country By Country. We Are Entering Times Of Rebellion And Change. There Are Those Who Believe That Destiny Rests On The Knees Of The Gods; But The Truth Is That It Confronts The Conscience Of Man With A Burning Challenge.

For Sailors Who Love The Wind, Memory Is A Good Port Of Departure.

A Unipolar World - One With Only One Power - Makes Sure That This Space Almost Disappears. In A Multipolar World This Space Multiplies. Therefore, There Is Nostalgia For A Multipolar World.

Many Small People, In Small Places, Doing Small Things Can Change The World.

Globalization Has Considerably Accelerated In Recent Years Following The Dizzying Expansion Of Communications And Transport And The Equally Stupefying Transnational Mergers Of Capital. We Must Not Confuse Globalization With "internationalism" Though. We Know That The Human Condition Is Universal, That We Share Similar Passions, Fears, Needs And Dreams, But This Has Nothing To Do With The "rubbing Out" Of National Borders As A Result Of Unrestricted Capital Movements. One Thing Is The Free Movement Of Peoples, The Other Of Money.

The Human Murder By Poverty In Latin America Is Secret: Every Year, Without Making A Sound, Three Hiroshima Bombs Explode Over Communities That Have Become Accustomed To Suffering With Clenched Teeth.

Charity, Vertical, Humiliates. Solidarity, Horizontal, Helps.

My Language Is A Feel-thinking Language, Feeling And Thinking At Once, That Is Why It Is A Celebration Of Life, And At Once It Is A Denunciation Of Everything That Is Not Allowed In Life To Be Real Life, It's Plenitude.

Indignation Must Always Be The Answer To Indignity. Reality Is Not Destiny.

There Are Visible And Invisible Dictators. The Power Structure Of World Football Is Monarchical. It's The Most Secret Kingdom In The World.

Chaplin And Keaton Are Still The Best. They Know That There Is Nothing More Serious Than Laughter, An Art Demanding Infinite Work, And That As Long As The World Revolves, Making Others Laugh Is The Most Splendid Of Activities.

Our Effectiveness Depends On Our Capacity To Be Audacious And Astute, Clear And Appealing. I Would Hope That We Can Create A Language More Fearless And Beautiful Than That Used By Conformist Writers To Greet The Twilight.

The Walls Are The Publishers Of The Poor.

I Can't Sleep. There Is A Woman Stuck Between My Eyelids. I Would Tell Her To Get Out If I Could. But There Is A Woman Stuck In My Throat

Development Develops Inequality.

Human Rights Pale Beside The Rights Of Machines. In More And More Cities, Especially In The Great Metropolises Of The South, People Have Been Banned. Automobiles Usurp Human Space, Poison The Air, And Frequently Murder The Interlopers Who Invade Their Conquered Territory -and No One Lifts A Finger To Stop Them. Is There A Difference Between Violence That Kills By Car And That Which Kills By Knife Or Bullet?" (p.231)

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