Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
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.
Pablo Neruda
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
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
Travel
Listen
Grace
Dies
Read
Doe
Music
Find
Slowly
More quotes by Pablo Neruda
If suddenly you do not exist, If suddenly you are not living, I shall go on living. I do not dare, I do not dare to write it, if you die. I shall go on living.
Pablo Neruda
A book, a book full of human touches, of shirts, a book without loneliness, with men and tools, a book is victory.
Pablo Neruda
And our problems will crumble apart, the soul / blow through like a wind, and here where we live will all be clean again, with fresh bread on the table.
Pablo Neruda
O happy childhood! blessed youth! But once we know thy potent power But once we live all careless free No cross to mar our love-lit bower.
Pablo Neruda
The road made wet by the water of August shines like it was cut in full moonlight
Pablo Neruda
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body... and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Pablo Neruda
Perhaps this war will pass like the others which divided us leaving us dead, killing us along with the killers but the shame of this time puts its burning fingers to our faces. Who will erase the ruthlessness hidden in innocent blood?
Pablo Neruda
And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow.
Pablo Neruda
In the distance someone is singing.
Pablo Neruda
Will our life not be a tunnel between two vague clarities? Or will it not be a clarity between two dark triangles?
Pablo Neruda
I love you between shadow and soul. I love you as the plant that hasn't bloomed yet, and carries hidden within itself the light of flowers. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. Because of you, the dense fragrance that rises from the earth lives in my body, rioting with hunger for the eternity of our victorious kisses.
Pablo Neruda
Today is today, and yesterday is gone. There is no doubt.
Pablo Neruda
Maybe someone will know I didn't weave crowns to draw blood that I faught against mockery that I did fill the high tide of my soul with truth. I repaid vileness with doves.
Pablo Neruda
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.
Pablo Neruda
Two things make a story. The net and the air that falls through the net.
Pablo Neruda
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
I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.
Pablo Neruda
To feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know ... widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.
Pablo Neruda
Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand.
Pablo Neruda
I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.
Pablo Neruda