Love is the mystery of water and a star.
PABLO NERUDADeath is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.
More Pablo Neruda Quotes
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Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.
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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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I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.
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Tonight I can write the saddest lines I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
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Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?
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We must dream our way.
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It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
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The books that help you most are those which make you think that most.
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Poetry is an act of peace.
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Love is a clash of lightnings
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The night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.
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I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
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Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart – a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.
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Give me silence, water, hope. Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.
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Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter.
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Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us.
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Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.
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In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.
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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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You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
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You are like night, calmed, constellated. Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.
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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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Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
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He who does not travel, who does not read, who does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself, she who does not find grace in herself, dies slowly.
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I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
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I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller. There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen.
PABLO NERUDA