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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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Book Earth Hands Snow Winter

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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.
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Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart – a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.
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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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And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.
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Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
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Today is today, and yesterday is gone. There is no doubt.
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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.
PABLO NERUDA

Book Earth Hands Snow Winter
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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I like on the table, when we’re speaking, the light of a bottle of intelligent wine.
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Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.
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Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us.
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What does autumn go on paying for with so much yellow money?
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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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By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness.
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Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
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