We are dust and to dust return. In the end we’re neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.
PABLO NERUDAWe are dust and to dust return. In the end we’re neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.
PABLO NERUDAEvery day you play with the light of the universe.
PABLO NERUDASomeday, somewhere – anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
PABLO NERUDAI crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
PABLO NERUDAYou can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
PABLO NERUDAHate is like a swordfish, working through water invisibly and then you see it coming with blood along its blade, but transparency disarms it.
PABLO NERUDAWhen I sleep every night, what am I called or not called? And when I wake, who am I if I was not I while I slept?
PABLO NERUDALove is a clash of lightnings
PABLO NERUDAA book, a book full of human touches, of shirts, a book without loneliness, with men and tools, a book is victory.
PABLO NERUDAMy feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but I shall go on living.
PABLO NERUDAThe hardest way of learning is that of easy reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty.
PABLO NERUDAFrom sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.
PABLO NERUDAThe night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.
PABLO NERUDAI want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
PABLO NERUDAConspirators in pajamas who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
PABLO NERUDAThere were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.
PABLO NERUDA