Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit.
PABLO NERUDAWhile I’m writing, I’m far away; and when I come back, I’ve gone.
More Pablo Neruda Quotes
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Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when.
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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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As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
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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.
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Tie your heart at night to mine, love, and both will defeat the darkness like twin drums beating in the forest against the heavy wall of wet leaves.
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Love is a war of lightning, and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
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While I’m writing, I’m far away; and when I come back, I’ve gone.
PABLO NERUDA -
It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
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Someday, somewhere – anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
PABLO NERUDA -
I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.
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I’m not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.
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Perhaps the earth can teach us As when everything seems dead And later proves to be alive.
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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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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Like them you are tall and taciturn, and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.
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I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
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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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The tomato offers its gift of fiery color and cool completeness.
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In love, you have loosened yourself like seawater.
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Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
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I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter.
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From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.
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The night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.
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You are like nobody since I love you.
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To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
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I do not love you-except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, from waiting to not waiting for you my heart moves from the cold into the fire.
PABLO NERUDA