“I went to the little window and inhaled the country air. One could hear the breathing of the night, feminine, enormous. ("The… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
“I went to the little window and inhaled the country air. One could hear the breathing of the night, feminine, enormous.” — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
The woman who died night after night and her dying was a long goodbye, a train that never left. — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
listen to me as one listens to the rain, the years go by, the moments return, do you hear the footsteps in… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
I sat at the foot of a huge tree, a statue of the night, and tried to make an inventory of all… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
I sat at the foot of a huge tree, a statue of the night, and tried to make an inventory of all… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
“At first I couldn't see anything. I fumbled along the cobblestone street. I lit a cigarette. Suddenly the moon appeared from behind… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
“The blue light of the rising moon fell on the rocks and the scant forest of the taiga, revealing each projecting rock,… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
What sets worlds in motion is the interplay of differences, their attractions and repulsions. Life is plurality, death is uniformity. By suppressing differences and… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
The religion of art, like the religion of politics, was born from the ruins of Christianity. Art inherited from the old religion the power… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
I thought that the world was a vast system of signs, a conversation between giant beings. My actions, the cricket's saw, the star's blink,… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
Changes are inseparable from democracy. To defend democracy is to defend the possibility of change; in turn, changes alone can strengthen democracy. — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
It is not proper to project our feelings onto things or to attribute our own sensations and passions to them. Can it also be… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
“I went to the little window and inhaled the country air. One could hear the breathing of the night, feminine, enormous. ("The Blue Bouquet")” — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
A glass pitcher, a wicker basket, a tunic of coarse cloth. Their beauty is inseparable from their function. Handicrafts belong to a world existing… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
“Between going and staying the day wavers, in love with its own transparency. The circular afternoon is now a bay where the world in… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
“Two bodies face to face Are at times two waves And the night is an ocean. Two bodies face to face Are sometimes two… — Octavio Paz Copy Share Image
