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Two things make a story. The net and the air that falls through the net.

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
Two
Stories
Make
Things
Falls
Air
Story
Fall

More quotes by Pablo Neruda

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Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
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I move in the university of the waves.
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Poetry is an act of peace.
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Love has to be…flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.
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What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?
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Without doubt I praise the wild excellence.
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Cómo se acuerda con los pájaros la traducción de sus idiomas?
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Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.
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I have never thought of my life as divided between poetry and politics.
Pablo Neruda
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A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.
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From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.
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Someone will ask later, sometimes searching for a name, his own or someone's else's why I neglected his sadness or his love... But I didn't have enough time or ink for everyone. Or maybe it was the strain of the city, of time the cold heart of the clocks.
Pablo Neruda
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Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance climbed up through my conscious mind as if suddenly the roots I had left behind cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood - and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
Pablo Neruda
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I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything.
Pablo Neruda
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my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but I shall go on living.
Pablo Neruda
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Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything, without anguish, death, winter waiting along it with their eyes open through the dew.
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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 you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, the snow will burn my heart, I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall live
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The typewriter separated me from a deeper intimacy with poetry, and my hand brought me closer to that intimacy again.
Pablo Neruda