Pablo Neruda Quotes

For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.

Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.

Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands, my private pain, my pride?

I want to do for you what the spring does for the cherry trees

In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.

To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.

About me, nothing worse they will tell you, my love, than what I told you

We open the halves of a miracle, and a clotting of acids brims into the starry divisions: creation's original juices, irreducible, changeless, alive: so the freshness lives on

so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.

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.

Once more I am the silent one who came out of the distance wrapped in cold rain and bells: I owe to earth's pure death the will to sprout.

I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.

From scarlet to powdered gold, to blazing yellow, to the rare ashen emerald, to the orange and black velvet of your shimmering corselet, out to the tip that like an amber thorn begins you, small, superlative being, you are a miracle, and you blaze

You can crush the flowers, but you can't stop the spring.

so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Perhaps this war will pass like the others which divided us leaving us dead, killing us along with the killers but the shame of this time puts its burning fingers to our faces. Who will erase the ruthlessness hidden in innocent blood?

Give me silence, water, hope Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.

I love you as one loves certain dark things.

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