A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.
Pablo NerudaAnd when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.
Pablo NerudaThere were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.
Pablo NerudaThe morning is full of storm in the heart of summer. The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye, the wind, travelling, waving them in its hands. The numberless heart of the wind beating above our loving silence. Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees like a language full of wars and songs.
Pablo Neruda