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You can crush the flowers, but you can't stop the spring.

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
Crush
Flowers
Spring
Flower
Stop
Love

More quotes by Pablo Neruda

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I should like to sleep like a cat, with all the fur of time, with a tongue rough as flint, with the dry sex of fire and after speaking to no one, stretch myself over the world, over roofs and landscapes, with a passionate desire to hunt the rats in my dreams.
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The tomato offers its gift of fiery color and cool completeness.
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Love is a war of lightning, and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness. Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity, your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages, and a genital fire, transformed by delight, slips through the narrow channels of blood to precipitate a nocturnal carnation, to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.
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Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter.
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Love! Love until the night collapses!
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I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything.
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Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?
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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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When everything seems to be set to show me off as intelligent, the fool I always keep hidden takes over all that I say.
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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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As slippery as smooth grapes, words exploding in the light like dormant seeds waiting in the vaults of vocabulary, alive again, and giving life: once again the heart distills them.
Pablo Neruda
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Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
Pablo Neruda
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And what has become of it, where is that onetime love? Now it is the grave of a bird, a drop of black quartz, a chunk of wood eroded by the rain.
Pablo Neruda
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Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.
Pablo Neruda
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In you is the illusion of each day. You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers. You undermine the horizon with your absence. Eternally in flight like the wave.
Pablo Neruda
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Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands, my private pain, my pride?
Pablo Neruda
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If each day falls inside each night, there exists a well where clarity is imprisoned. We need to sit on the rim of the well of darkness and fish for fallen light with patience.
Pablo Neruda
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And what importance do I have in the courtroom of oblivion?
Pablo Neruda
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I want to see thirst In the syllables, Tough fire In the sound Feel through the dark For the scream.
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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