Latin America is very fond of the word "hope." We like to be called the "continent of hope." Candidates for deputy, senator, president, call themselves "candidates of hope." This hope is really something like a promise of heaven, an IOU… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
And I, a materialist who does not believe in the starry heaven promised to a human being, for this dog and for every dog I believe in heaven, yes, I believe in a heaven that I will never enter, but… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing. — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
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,… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
“I remember only a day that was perhaps never intended for me, it was an incessant day, without origins, Thursday. I was a man… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
“We had, as men, time So our thirst could slowly be satisfied, the ancestral longing to enumerate things and sum them up, to render… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
I don't know who it is who lives or dies, who rests or wakes, but it is your heart that distributes all the graces… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
“Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs, you look like a world, lying in surrender. My rough peasant's body digs in you and… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
We open the halves of a miracle, and a clotting of acids brims into the starry divisions: creation's original juices, irreducible, changeless, alive: so… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
“Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
Perhaps the earth can teach us As when everything seems dead And later proves to be alive — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
“I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
