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Bitter love, a violet with it's crown of thorns in a thicet of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?

Pablo Neruda

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Pablo Neruda
Age: 69 †
Born: 1904
Born: July 12
Died: 1973
Died: September 23
Author
Autobiographer
Diplomat
Lyricist
Poet
Politician
Senator Of Chile
Nieh-lu-ta
Neftalí Reyes Basoalto
Pamplo Nerouda
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes
Bāblū Nīrūdā
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Nieluda
Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Reyes Basualto
Neftali Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Ricardo Reyes
Neftalí Reyes Basualto
Pāplō Nerūda
Brought
Violet
Sorrow
Thorns
Passion
Crown
Soul
Crowns
Come
Passions
Love
Conquer
Spiky
Rage
Spear
Bitter
Spears

More quotes by Pablo Neruda

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When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?
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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.
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so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.
Pablo Neruda
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I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything.
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Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.
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The Truth is in the prolouge. Death to the romantic fool., the expert in solitary confinement.
Pablo Neruda
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Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
Pablo Neruda
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The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer. The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye, the wind, travelling, waving them in its hands. The numberless heart of the wind beating above our loving silence. Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees like a language full of wars and songs.
Pablo Neruda
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I do not love you-except because I love you I go from loving to not loving you, from waiting to not waiting for you my heart moves from the cold into the fire.
Pablo Neruda
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What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood?
Pablo Neruda
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Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Pablo Neruda
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Under your skin the moon is alive.
Pablo Neruda
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I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.
Pablo Neruda
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There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.
Pablo Neruda
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About me, nothing worse they will tell you, my love, than what I told you
Pablo Neruda
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I am everybody and every time, I always call myself by your name.
Pablo Neruda
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Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?
Pablo Neruda
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Poetry is an act of peace.
Pablo Neruda
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Your house sounds like a train at midday, the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing, the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew . . .
Pablo Neruda
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Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
Pablo Neruda