The 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 NerudaBut from each crime are born bullets that will one day seek out in you where the heart lies.
Pablo NerudaWill our life not be a tunnel between two vague clarities? Or will it not be a clarity between two dark triangles?
Pablo NerudaI've come within range of hate. Terrifying, its tremors, its dizzying obsessions. Hate's like a swordfish invisible in the water, knifing suddenly into sight with blood on its blade- clear water misleads you.
Pablo Neruda