Pablo Neruda Quotes

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.

If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life

Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.

In one kiss, you'll know all I haven't said.

To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.

Every day you play with the light of the universe.

Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.

And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.

If each day falls inside each night, there exists a well where clarity is imprisoned. We need to sit on the rim of the well of darkness and fish for fallen light with patience.

Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.

Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us

What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.

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.

Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way

so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. Don't leave me for a second, my dearest.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness

My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

You can crush the flowers, but you can't stop the spring.

And I, infinitesima­l being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

Laughter is the language of the soul.

I love all the things there are, and of all fires love is the only inexhaustible one; and that's why I go from life to life.

All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are.

As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.

And it follows that I am, because you are: it follows from 'you are', that I am, and we: and, because of love, you will, I will, we will, come to be.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter.

At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined, and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.

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.

And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.

Perhaps the earth can teach us As when everything seems dead And later proves to be alive

You are like night, calmed, constellated. Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.

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.

We must dream our way.

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.

Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart.

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.

Conspirators in pajamas who exchange deep kisses for passwords.

There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.

You are like nobody since I love you.

Look around—there's only one thing of danger for you here—poetry.

I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.

Loving is a journey with water and with stars, with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour: loving is a clash of lightning-bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.