Pablo Neruda

“Each in the most hidden sack kept the lost jewels of memory, intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses, the fragment of public or private happiness. A few, the wolves, collected thigh...”

“Love is a clash of lightnings”

“Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.”

“You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everythin...”

“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.”

“Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos”

“I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.....”

“I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrence risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. and:...”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“I shivered in those solitudes when I heard the voice of the salt in the desert.”

“I have hunger for your mouth, for your voice, for your hair”

“So the freshness lives on in a lemon, in the sweet-smelling house of the rind, the proportions, arcane and acerb.”

“Escóndeme en tus brazos por esta noche sola, mientras la lluvia rompe contra el mar y la tierra su boca innumerable.”

“Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.”

“Poetry And it was at that age... 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, no, they were not voices, th...”

“I stalk certain words... I catch them in mid-flight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture to me, vibrant,...”

“Sometimes a piece of the sun burned like a coin between my hands.”

“A book, a book full of human touches, of shirts, a book without loneliness, with men and tools, a book is victory.”

“Soy el desesperado, la palabra sin ecos, el que lo perdiò todo, y el que todo lo tuvo.”

“Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.' The night wind revolves in the sky and...”