Before Night Falls

These, to be sure, were farfetched hopes, hopes born of despair, but hope is, after all, mostly for the desperate.

The difference between the communist and capitalist systems is that, although both give you a kick in the ass, in the communist system you have to applaud, while in the capitalist system you can scream. And I came here to scream.

Before getting to my mother's house, I would always think of her on the porch or even on the street, sweeping. She had a light way of sweeping, as if removing the dirt were not as important as moving the broom over the ground. Her way of sweeping was symbolic; so airy, so fragile, with a broom she tried to sweep away all the horrors, all the loneliness, all the misery that had accompanied her all her life...

Siempre he considerado un acto miserable mendigar la vida como un favor. O se vive como uno desea, o es mejor no seguir viviendo

Cuba will be free. I already am.

Históricamente, Cuba había escapado siempre de la realidad gracias a la sátira y a la burla. Sin embargo, con Fidel Castro, el sentido del humor fue desapareciendo hasta quedar prohibido; con eso el pueblo cubano perdió una de sus pocas posibilidades de supervivencia; al quitarle la risa le quitaron al pueblo el más profundo sentido de las cosas.

All the literature of this century is somewhat burdened by the theme of uprootedness.

All this had already given us an inkling of what the new regime was about. There was still some hope, however. There is always some hope, especially for cowards. I was one of them, one of those cowardly or hopeful young men who still thought the government had something to offer.

(...) quería una persona, quería que esa persona me quisiera y no pensaba que uno tenía que buscar, incesantemente, en otros cuerpos lo que ya había encontrado en uno solo (...)

My sexual activity was all with animals. First there were the hens, then the goats and the sows, and after I had grown up some more, the mares.

The exile is a person who, having lost a loved one, keeps searching for the face he loves in every new face and, forever deceiving himself, thinks he has found it.

Yo recuerdo que, cuando llegué a Estados Unidos, un cubano en Washington me dijo lo siguiente: «Nunca te vayas a pelear con la izquierda». Para ellos, pelearse con la izquierda significaba atacar al gobierno de Castro. Pero cómo podía yo después de veinte años de represión callarme aquellos crímenes. Por otra parte, nunca me he considerado un ser ni de izquierda ni de derecha, ni quiero que se me catalogue bajo ninguna etiqueta oportunista y política; yo digo mi verdad, lo mismo que un judío que haya sufrido el racismo o un ruso que haya estado en un gulag, o cualquier ser humano que haya tenido ojos para ver las cosas tal como son; grito, luego, existo.

En los sistemas políticos siniestros, se vuelven siniestras también muchas de las personas que lo padecen; no son muchos los que pueden escapar a esa maldad delirante y envolvente de la cual, si uno se excluye, perece.

I always went to bed like someone getting ready for a long trip: books, pills, glasses of water, clocks, a light, pencils, notebooks. To go to bed and switch off the light has been for me to submit to a totally unknown world, full of delicious as well as sinister promises.

In Miami the obsession with making things work and being practical, with making lots of money, sometimes out of the fear of starving, has replaced a sense of life and, above all, of pleasure, adventure, and irreverence.

The typical Cuban machismo has attained alarming proportions in Miami. I did not want to stay too long in that place, which was like a caricature of Cuba, the worst of Cuba: the eternal gossip, the chicanery, the envy.

If Cuba is Hell, Miami is Purgatory.

...Writing it all down was a consolation; it was a way of being with my friends when I was no longer among them.

To walk on the earth after a rainstorm is to be in touch with absolute fulfillment: the earth, satisfied, floods us with its well-being, while its many aromas saturate the air and fill us with life-creating impulses.

Death has always been very close to me, it has always been my loyal companion. Sometimes I am sorry that I’ll die, only because then death will perhaps abandon me.

I think that Cubans are defined by noise; it seems to be inherent in their nature, and also part of their exhibitionism. They need to bother others; they can neither enjoy nor suffer in silence.

i would have liked to get off the train and make love with him in any hotel, the way we used to at monte barreto; in moments of danger i have always felt the need to have someone close to me.