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“The duende I mean, secret and shuddering, is descended from that blithe daemon, all marble and salt, of Socrates, whom it scratched at indignantly on the day when he drank the hemlock, and that other melancholy demon of Descartes, diminutive as a green almond, that, tired of lines and circles, fled along the canals to listen to the singing of drunken sailors.”

—Federico Garcia Lorca, Theory and Play of Duende

“Seeking the duende, there is neither map nor discipline. We only know it burns the blood like powdered glass, that it exhausts, rejects all the sweet geometry we understand, that it shatters styles….”

—Federico Garcia Lorca, Theory and Play of Duende

“The duende is a momentary burst of inspiration, the blush of all that is truly alive, all that the performer is creating at a certain moment….It manifests itself principally among the musicians and poets of the spoken word, rather than among the painters and architects, for it needs the trembling of the moment and then a long silence.”

—Christopher Maurer, from the Introduction of Lorca’s “In Search of Duende”