I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything, I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic shops, and courtyards with washing hanging from the line: underwear, towels and shirts from which slow dirty tears… — 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
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
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
“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
“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
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
“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
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
“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
Perhaps the earth can teach us As when everything seems dead And later proves to be alive — Pablo Neruda Copy Share
“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
“Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs, you look like a world, lying in surrender.” — Pablo Neruda Copy Share
“ I Like For You To Be Still I like for you to be still It is as though you are absent And you… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share
