Tonight I can write the saddest lines I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
PABLO NERUDALove has to be flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.
More Pablo Neruda Quotes
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My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
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I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.
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Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
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Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.
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Love has to be flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.
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Poetry is an act of peace.
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All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are.
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Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way.
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I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
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Love is the mystery of water and a star.
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Hate is like a swordfish, working through water invisibly and then you see it coming with blood along its blade, but transparency disarms it.
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In the house of poetry nothing endures that is not written with blood to be heard with blood.
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For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.
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Conspirators in pajamas who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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Our love was born outside the walls, in the wind, in the night, in the earth, and that’s why the clay and the flower, the mud and the roots know your name.
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Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.
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I move in the university of the waves.
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
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Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
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Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
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A book, a book full of human touches, of shirts, a book without loneliness, with men and tools, a book is victory.
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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.
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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.
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We must dream our way.
PABLO NERUDA